Retrieval I: Leapers Weep Not
by orianna-2000
Summary: A new scientist is brought to the Project and devises a plan to bring Sam home... but will it work? For those who read this prior to Feb. 2005, this is an extremely revised and expanded edition.
1. O Thou Bleak and Unbearable World

_This is a non-profit work of fan-fiction based upon the_ Quantum Leap_ television series_ _created by Donald P. Bellisario._ Quantum Leap, _and all related characters, places, and events, belongs to Bellisarius Productions, and is used without permission. This story, along with any original characters, belongs to the author, © 1996, revised 2005.

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_**Retrieval I: Leapers Weep Not**_  
**by Orianna-2000**

_This story is the first of the Retrieval series. Due to the many inconsistencies in the official QL timeline, I've had to take a few liberties with the chronological aspects of this story. It assumes that Sam first leaped in May of 1995, season four began in late 1999, and "Mirror Image" took place toward the end of 2000. Also, there seems to be a dispute of the precise lyrics for "Fate's Wide Wheel", so what I couldn't personally decipher, I used what seemed most likely considering Sam's situation._

_Special thanks go to: Chris DeFilippis for his insights on neural holography, Vicki Wiltshire (aka Imzali) for the chocolate, the entire population of RASTQL for keeping the Leap, and of course, Scott and Dean._

_While this story has been available for some time on my website, it has recently been revised. This is the newest, and considerably updated, version._

—

**Prologue - O Thou Bleak and Unbearable World****  
**

**New York City, New York  
Friday May 10, 1985**

She wished it would rain. It needed to rain, according to custom: sunshine for weddings, and rain for funerals. And yet, the sun lit the clear blue sky brilliantly, highlighting a few thin white clouds as a mockery. How unfair.

A friendly breeze played with her dark brown hair, and ruffled the hem of her navy blue sundress, distracting her from the preacher's final words. It didn't matter, though. Nothing he said made sense, nor did it console. All she knew was the emptiness inside, the numbing pain, the tears that wouldn't come.

The gathered people started to scatter, and for a moment she stood staring at the double grave, noticing the deep shadows cast by the bright sunlight. A single tear made its way down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. She had to stay strong, in control. She needed to act grown up, so the adults would stop looking at her with pity.

Someone touched her arm, and she looked up. Her uncle stood there, his face saddened, but his naval uniform crisp and white. She managed a half-smile for him, since it had been a year since he'd last visited on leave, and she'd missed him.

"Hey, kid," he said. Al Calavicci hated funerals, and coffins, and anything to do with death, but he couldn't bring himself to not come. For his niece's sake, if not his own, he gestured toward his car. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

They drove for a while through the city, neither saying a word, until finally they pulled into the parking garage of Elizabeth's grandmother's apartment. The girl would be living here, now, but before they went inside the upper middle-class building, her uncle turned to her.

"I know a lot of stuff is going through your head right now, sweetheart. You've probably been told all kinds of different things about your parents, and where they are now, and you don't know what to think, or what to believe." He paused, tapping the steering wheel nervously. Even though he loved kids, and hoped someday to have some of his own, he wasn't used to talking to them. "Well, I know what it's like to lose someone you love, I really do. And you might not believe this, but after a while, it will get better. Anyway... here." He pulled something out from under the seat and handed it to her.

Curious, Elizabeth unfolded the paper wrapping, and found a book... old, and leather-bound, with gold printing that read, _The Time Machine_. She furrowed her brow as she flipped through the pages.

"It's a good story," he promised her. "I used to read it when I was younger. I thought maybe you could use something... well, distracting."

She carefully closed the book, and held it against her chest. "Thank you. It's nice."

Al smiled, relieved she liked it. He'd spent hours debating on what to bring her, because while he knew she was bright – she'd skipped sixth-grade last year, making her the only twelve-year-old in her eighth-grade class this year – he didn't know what sort of things she liked. "Don't worry," he assured her. "I'm not going to make you read it and then discuss it with me, or anything educational like that." That earned him a small grin, and he patted her shoulder. "All right, well, I've got to get going. Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine," she said automatically, unbuckling her seat belt and opening the door. "Will you write me?"

"Sure, kid. As often as I can."

Elizabeth watched her uncle drive away, and suddenly felt tears flooding her eyes. Quickly she ran inside, holding back the emotions until locked safely in her new bedroom. Then she cried herself to sleep.

When she woke, the room was dark. Her clock read 10:13, and from the relative quietness of the apartment, she guessed her grandmother had already gone to bed. Exhausted, but unable to fall back asleep, she picked up the book her uncle gave her, and started reading.

By the time the sun rose the next morning, she'd read it twice.


	2. To Dream the Impossible Dream

**Chapter One - To Dream the Impossible Dream**

**Eleven Years Later...  
Project: Quantum Leap**

**Monday April 15, 1996**

A white-hot sun blazed down, baking the dirt and rocks of the New Mexico desert. The air hung thick and dry, a slight breeze serving only to stir up dust and spread the heat around. At an undisclosed, top-secret location, not far from where the first atomic bomb exploded fifty years earlier, a small cluster of buildings sat surrounded by a chain link fence topped with barbed wire. Observed casually, the group of buildings appeared unimportant, old, and perhaps even abandoned; below the surface, hundreds of feet underground, things looked quite different.

Albert Calavicci strode quickly through a maze of futuristic-styled metal corridors, heading toward a destination eight stories below the desert sand. At the age of 62, he held the rank of Admiral in the US Navy, and the title of Assistant Project Director, but his true position, the one he performed with fierce devotion, was that of Project Observer. Due to the top-secret nature of the Project, only a handful of people actually knew exactly what the position entailed, and all of them – no, all but one – were waiting for him in the conference lounge, no doubt impatiently.

Stopping in front of a door that gleamed with the same metallic finish as the rest of the hallway, Al took a few deep cleansing breaths. He straightened the front of his immaculate white uniform, chosen specifically for the professional impression it gave, then pressed a panel imbedded in the wall beside the door. The door slid upward with a soft hydraulic hiss, and Al found himself facing a table of expectant committee members.

"Admiral Calavicci, how kind of you to join us." The man seated at the head of the table stood in a meaningless gesture of respect. His gaunt face and narrow beard gave him the resemblance of Abe Lincoln, but his attitude and morals differed greatly from the highly esteemed late president – an irony Al could appreciate.

"Senator Weitzman, ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for my tardiness," Al began eloquently. "Dr. Beckett leaped in, and it was necessary for me to attend to the situation."

Weitzman nodded. "So your staff explained. I trust everything is all right?"

Al stopped himself from laughing out loud. Things hadn't been 'all right' since Samuel Beckett had prematurely stepped into the Accelerator, leaping himself into the past, and things wouldn't be 'all right' until he leaped home, where he belonged. But the committee knew that. Most of them lived with the fact every day of their lives, so Al chose to satisfy the elderly Senator's request by giving a tidbit of information. "Sam's leaped into a Jewish Rabbi this time; his first words were 'oy vey'"

That brought a few muffled laughs from the assembled members, and it seemed to Al that the level of tension in the room dropped by a few degrees.

"How interesting. Shall we begin?" Weitzman cleared his throat expectantly.

Al quickly took the only available seat, saved for him by his current girlfriend: short-skirted, blue-eyed blonde Tina Martinez-O'Farrell, the Project's Pulse Communications Expert. On his other side sat Gooshie, a small man who had overpowering bad breath, an incredible knack for computer programming, and a strong tendency to be absent-minded. Dark-skinned psychiatrist Verbeena Beeks sat across the table, flanked by a high-ranking female naval officer and a dour-faced representative of the Defense Department.

"The purpose of this meeting is to discuss the possibility of a new recruit to the scientific aspect of this project. I will present the information on three individuals, then it will be open to discussion before a vote is taken. As usual, ladies and gentlemen, the candidates' names and genders will be kept confidential to ensure an unbiased opinion." Weitzman opened an unmarked folder, pulling out several sheets of paper.

After eleven months of being unable to bring Sam back from the grasp of Time, it had been decided that an infusion of fresh scientific blood might help. Al supported this decision whole-heartedly. The sorting and choosing had been done previously, a careful elimination of names until three candidates remained – the best of the field, supposedly. Al listened as Weitzman spoke, mentally dismissing the first two with an instinct bred from years of experience, but when Weitzman began to list the third scientist's qualifications, Al leaned forward intently.

"This candidate graduated from public High School at age sixteen, with a 4.0 GPA, and a full scholarship anywhere in the country. SAT scores were in the 99th percentile. He or she graduated with honors from MIT after two and a half years, then went back for a doctorate in quantum physics. And a few months ago he or she also received a degree in psychology."

"My God, that sounds just like Sam!" Al shook his head with surprised amusement. "All those diplomas... he must have no life whatsoever."

Tina spoke up, a disapproving tone to her naturally high-pitched voice. "Maybe _she's_ just really smart, Al." After all, Tina personally held two degrees, plus an IQ higher than anyone suspected – Proof that having a life and having brains didn't necessarily conflict. She automatically dismissed Al's assumption that it must be a male. "What's her intelligence quotient?"

Weitzman scanned the data sheet until he found the information. "Ah, 179." Above the approving whispers, he added, "The idea of time travel intrigues this person profoundly. His or her graduate dissertation discussed various possible means of temporal displacement, which, as you might imagine didn't receive the high marks it should have. I have a copy of it here, for any who wish to read it."

"Hmm." Al scrunched his eyebrows thoughtfully, reaching for the dissertation. He skimmed it, then rubbed his eyes. "Wow. What few sentences I could understand seem to be based on Sam's early research. I don't know, it sounds too good to be true. But I suppose we could use a miracle around here."

Verbeena Beeks, staff psychiatrist joined the conversation, looking thoughtful. "What about the psychological profile?"

A second or two of fumbling, then Weitzman read from the report, "Introverted personality, with tendencies toward isolation. Has the ability to work well in a group situation, so long as given sufficient free reign without constant supervision. Tends to concentrate on current work to the exclusion of everything else. Reacts strongly to unfounded criticism, yet avoids conflict wherever possible."

"So the kid's human." Al shrugged. "Sounds good to me. What's Ziggy have to say?"

Ziggy, the world's first and only parallel hybrid computer, had been designed and built by three people: Dr. Sam Beckett, Admiral Al Calavicci, and Gooshie, whose real name nobody seemed to know. A combination of cryogenically cooled microprocessors and synthetic bio-organic components, Ziggy also held the distinction of the first computer to possess an ego, complete with mood swings and a unique personality which kept everyone on their toes. Her main system was housed on the same level as the Imaging Chamber and Control room, but she branched through all thirteen levels of the Project complex, controlling every vital system, and having an access console in nearly every room.

Now her silken voice emanated from a small sphere in the center of the table, indignantly. "I do have the capability to answer for myself, Admiral Calavicci," she said succinctly. "I get a headache just thinking of all the ways I could be of use to you, if only you bothered to ask. Why, if Doctor Beckett were here –"

Al interrupted her with an annoyed edge to his voice. "Ziggy, we all know about your 'advanced capabilities', and we know how much you miss Sam, but if he were here, we wouldn't need to be in this danged meeting! Now, will you please give us your opinion?"

"Certainly," the computer replied, a miffed tone to her voice. "On what?"

Al stood and braced his hands on the table, narrowing his eyes. Ziggy often tested his patience with her moods and deliberate trifling, but sometimes she went beyond what he considered appropriate, like now. "We're not any closer to retrieving Dr. Beckett than we were eleven months ago," he said, "but the computer thinks we have time to play games?"

He crossed the room menacingly and pulled a silver fire extinguisher off the wall. It felt solid in his hands, and he hefted it experimentally, testing the weight. Satisfied, he returned to the table, ignoring the uneasy warning looks everyone gave him. Sometimes Ziggy just went too far.

"I want to know –" he banged the heavy canister against the glowing sphere that housed Ziggy's speaker, "if this person –" he hit it again, "whoever he is, can help bring –" he panted as again and again he banged the speaker, "my best friend back!" He threw the extinguisher at the wall, then sank back down in his chair.

The group stared at him in silence, shocked, and even Ziggy sounded humbled as she finally admitted, "I believe this person would make a valuable addition to the Project."

"Thank you!" Al sighed heavily and dropped his head in both hands.


	3. To Fight the Unbeatable Foe

  
**Chapter Two - To Fight the Unbeatable Foe**

**Boston, Massachusetts**

**Saturday April 20, 1996**

Dr. Elizabeth Jane Calavicci put a saucer of yogurt down for her cat. He meowed, rubbing himself against her ankles, completely ignoring the treat. Heaving a sigh, she bent over and picked him up. The small gray and white feline settled into her arms contentedly and started purring.

"You little bugger," she remarked with an amused smile. All her life she'd wanted a cat, but her parents had both been allergic to dander. When they died, she moved in with her grandmother, who owned three dogs, and then she'd lived in a college dorm which didn't allow animals of any kind. Finally, after graduating with a doctorate in quantum physics, she'd moved into a modest apartment. Even before unpacking, she'd gone to the animal shelter and picked out "H.G. Wells", or "Wellie" for short. He'd kept her company during the long nights of studying for her psychology degree.

The cat tilted his head back at her and looked at her mournfully, despite the loud purring coming from his throat. His eyes seemed to plead with her, and Elizabeth made a sympathetic noise. "I know, baby. You've been so lonely, haven't you? But you don't have to worry. I'm done with college for now, and I've got a few jobs I can do from home, before I decide on which research grant to accept. So I'll be home all the time to take care of you. Won't that be nice, sweetie?"

Wellie meowed in agreement, and jumped down. He headed straight for the shallow bowl of yogurt, as if all he'd needed was that bit of reassurance before allowing himself to eat breakfast.

Letting the cat eat in peace, Elizabeth turned on the stereo and selected her favorite musical, "Man of La Mancha". The idea of one man seeing the world through different eyes and fighting against the evils he discerned, even if no one else saw them, had always intrigued her. The music boosted her spirits. While she dressed, then combed the morning tangles out of her dark, curly hair, she sang along with the familiar tunes, thankful she no longer had dorm-mates to complain if her music grew too loud.

—

The salt flavored spring breeze that blew up the New England coast was a welcome relief from the molten one-hundred degree weather Al and Tina had left behind in New Mexico. Pale green trees lined the streets, interspersed with a few that were still flowering pink or white; the morning air smelled fresh and new.

Enjoying the cool, quiet atmosphere, Al took the top down on the rented red convertible as they cruised the streets of downtown Boston. The vote for the MIT prodigy had been unanimous, so he'd been charged with the responsibility of finding and, hopefully, recruiting the person to the Project.

"Tina, what's this guy's name?" he asked, recalling that it hadn't been mentioned at the meeting.

"Why are you so sure it's a man? Women are just as smart as men, sometimes even smarter!" Tina deliberately pouted, pretending to be hurt by Al's gender bias.

He looked briefly at her and decided it wasn't worth the fight. Once Tina started using her lips in an argument, he knew he'd lost. "I'm sorry, babe. I just can't stand saying 'he or she' all the time. Besides, how many female quantum physicists do you know?" Before she could comment, he quickly moved on. "I want to make sure we know who we're supposed to find, before we get there. You do have the file, right?"

"I've got it here somewhere," Tina replied, acting unconcerned. The papers were sitting in a folder at her feet, but she wanted to keep the identity of the recruit a secret from Al as long as possible. When she saw the name of the young woman, she'd giggled and gone along with Ziggy's request that Al be kept in the dark.

When he started to ask her again, Tina slid one foot on top of the file, then leaned toward Al seductively. "Did I ever tell you how, like, sexy you look with your hair all mussed up from the wind?"

Al glanced at her sideways, smiling. Today, Tina wore a tiny business suit which revealed more than it covered, and he wished he could enjoy the view without the risk of running the car off the road. "Did I tell you how sexy you are, period?"

Tina laughed, straining against the seatbelt to edge closer to Al. He kept his eyes on the road, but found the way she caressed his ear pleasantly distracting. "You're wonderful, doll, but you'd better stop that or we'll never find where we're going. What was that address again?"

Grinning, she slid back to her seat, then read him the address, carefully omitting the name of the person. The place proved easy to find, and a few minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. Though not first-class, the building looked well cared for and clean. Al nodded with satisfaction as they both stepped out of the car. "I lived in worse just before joining Starbright. And you should have seen Sam's place! Now there's a man who doesn't know how to pick an apartment."

Tina laughed, and started walking toward the entrance. Al stayed by the car, admiring the view. The shimmering neon pink silk fabric of Tina's suit had a slight clinging tendency that made him want to insist she never wear anything else.

"Al?" She stopped and looked at him expectantly.

"Oh, right!" He smiled and shut the car door firmly. They entered the building together, and he scanned the hallway, searching for the right apartment.

Tina pointed to the door marked 42. "That's it."

Soft strains of a familiar song filtered out from the apartment, not clear enough to identify, but somehow reassuring. Al knocked on the wooden door quickly, then turned to Tina. "What'd you say the name was?"

"Oh, um..." Tina made a pretense of shuffling through her purse for the information, even though she'd deliberately left the papers in the car.

"Tina!" Al hissed. "This person's going to come to the door and I still don't even know if it's a man or a woman, or what to call him or her!"

"Well..." Tina stalled, hoping the woman would come to the door before Al made her answer. "It's, like, a woman. And her name's Elizabeth."

Frustrated, Al glared at her. "Elizabeth _what_?"

Tina shrugged innocently, and the door opened to reveal a young woman wearing jeans and a dark green shirt. Al did a double-take, answering the question for himself. "Elizabeth Calavicci!"

Her eyes widened with surprise at seeing the man standing on her doorstep. "Uncle Al?"

"Wait a minute..." He stared at her, wondering how long it had been since the last time he'd seen her. The girl – no, definitely a woman now – had the dark brown curls which were a Calavicci family trademark, and her eyes matched her father's in a light green color Al had always envied. He shook his head in confusion. "Liz, hon, what are you doing here?"

"I live here," she replied, glancing at Tina, then back at Al with a quizzical expression. "Would you like to come in?"

"Yeah, sure. But can you hang on for just a second?" He touched Tina's arm. "We need to talk. Only be a minute, I swear." As soon as Elizabeth closed the door, Al rounded on Tina. "What's going on? That can't be the quantum physicist we're here to recruit!"

Tina folded her arms, a faint smile gracing her full lips. This moment was worth the hassle of keeping the secret! "Why not, Al?"

"Well for starters, she's just a kid!" Al stared at the closed door, as old memories surfaced.

"Try twenty-three." Tina's voice held amusement, and she watched the surprised expression cover Al's face.

"What? That's impossible." It took him several seconds to calculate before he reluctantly concluded Tina was correct. Had it really been that long since he'd seen her?

"What else is bothering you, Al?" Tina prodded him, even though she knew.

"She's my niece. Half-niece," he amended. He'd never told Tina the story, so, taking a deep breath, he explained. "My father remarried after Mama left us, but it didn't last long. They had a son, James. When they split up, James went with his mother. Through the years, we managed to keep in contact, on and off. He only had one kid, Liz, but I haven't seen her since the funeral. God... that was seven – no, eleven! – years ago."

Tina nodded, and tipped her head sympathetically. "Is this going to be a problem, Al?"

"It is for Ziggy," he grunted. He could forgive Tina. After all, she only needed to look at him with a pout and he'd melt into a compliant puddle. But as for the deliberately annoying computer... "After I get my hands on her circuits, she won't even be able to recite the alphabet," he vowed.

Unconsciously, he tugged on his jacket to smooth the wrinkles that creased the bright yellow fabric. "All right, let's talk to her."

He knocked again, and the door opened. Al suddenly found himself being hugged, and after a moment to ground himself, he wrapped his arms around the petite young woman and squeezed gently. Then he stepped back and looked at Elizabeth with amazement. Since he'd last seen her, she'd matured remarkably. Of course, eleven years will do that, Al supposed. Eleven years? Unbelievable.

As they stepped inside the casual but tastefully decorated apartment, Al introduced Tina. "Dr. Martinez-O'Farrell works with me."

"Doctor Calavicci." Tina nodded to the young woman, quite pleased at the success of her prank, and interested in getting to know this unexpected physicist.

Still slightly shocked at seeing her long-absent uncle, Elizabeth motioned them to a comfortable couch and tried to remember her manners. "Can I get you anything? I just went shopping, so I've got coffee with extra caffeine, herbal tea, and fruit juice. Sorry no soda – I never drink it."

Al glanced at Tina, who shook her head. "It's all right. We're fine. Gosh, it's good to see you again."

Elizabeth smiled, and sat across from them. She didn't know why Al would show up at her apartment after so long, but he looked the same as she remembered, wearing ridiculously bright clothes, and that cigar sticking out of his pocket. However, his face held unfamiliar lines, as if he carried a burden heavier than any man ought to bear. At first glance, the woman he had brought with him looked like a stereotypical ditzy blonde. With closer inspection, though, Elizabeth noticed an intelligent spark in her blue eyes, and a friendly smile. Instinctively, she felt as ease with both of them.

"Wow, so, you're into quantum physics, now, huh?" Al asked. His mind still boggled at the idea of his niece turning out to be a genius in exactly the area they needed. At her nod, he fell quiet for a moment, not sure how to address the issue. "Uh, did your dad or grandmother ever tell you what I do for a living?"

Elizabeth thought back, remembering illustrious tales her father told her of the man who was taken POW during Vietnam, then went on to join NASA. Her grandmother never spoke of Al, though, so she knew almost nothing of what he'd been doing since her father and mother's death. Shaking her head, she said, "I know you worked for the space program a while back, and the military?"

"Well, yeah. The Navy. They made me an Admiral, if you can believe it. Right now I'm involved in a very delicate scientific project." He glanced at Tina, who nodded at him to go ahead. "Have you ever heard of Project: Quantum Leap?"

Wellie came over, having satiated himself on yogurt and dry cat food, and Elizabeth let her hand drop down to pet him. She thought for a moment, rolling the project's name around in her mind, then shook her head. "No, I don't believe I have."

Al smiled. "Good, because it's extremely classified. What about the 'String Theory of Universal Structure'?" Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a shoelace to demonstrate the concept.

"You mean Dr. Samuel Beckett's belief that your life is like a string with the ends representing your birth and death?" Elizabeth eagerly leaned forward in her seat. She knew this theory by heart. "Tie the ends together and your life is a loop; ball the loop up and the days of your life touch each other out of sequence. Therefore, leaping from one point of the string to another would move you forward or backward within your own lifetime. It's the simplified version of his theory on time travel."

"Well, I guess I won't be needing this!" Al grinned, and handed the shoelace to Tina, who coyly tucked it down the front of her jacket, in between her silicon-free breasts.

"I've studied all of Doctor Beckett's work," Elizabeth stated in earnest. "Everything he wrote, right up until he disappeared last year. What does this have to do with you?"

Al shrugged, downplaying his role in the Project. "I'm sort of a military liaison for a very top-secret project, run by Dr. Beckett. Well, now it's being kept going by a group of scientists, but he's still considered Project Director."

"You knew Dr. Beckett?" Elizabeth looked at him, incredulous. She could hardly believe the coincidence of her uncle knowing the one brilliant physicist that she'd always wanted to meet. His theories on time travel were nothing short of amazing. When Dr. Beckett's articles suddenly stopped appearing, rumors circulated that he'd killed himself, either accidentally during an experiment, or deliberately, due to lack of support from the scientific world, and she'd been sorely disappointed. There was something in his articles that drew her, some spark of truth and naive enthusiasm which had always fascinated her.

"I've known him for a while," Al admitted, deliberately ignoring her usage of the past tense. "We worked together on the Starbright project, back in the eighties, then we got together to form Quantum Leap."

"What kind of project is it, exactly? Does it have anything to do with why Dr. Beckett vanished?" A sudden thought occurred to her, and she asked with curiosity, "Do you know what happened to him?"

A distinctly uncomfortable look crossed Al's face. "Well, I can't really talk about that here, Liz. Everything about the Project is top-secret, unless, of course, you have clearance. Which is what Tina and I came to talk to you about." He looked her in the eyes. "I'd like to offer you a job on the Project."

"What kind of job?" She scrunched her eyebrows in an unconscious imitation of the way Al did when perplexed.

"Uh, well, research and application in quantum physics, mostly. I can't tell you any more right now. You'd need to come back with me to New Mexico, and see the place and what we do, before you decide."

Elizabeth had always had good intuition, and something definitely told her to go along. So she nodded. "Okay, but... why me?"

"We need new minds, fresh ideas. You'll come?" Al looked hopeful. "The jet's standing by at the airport..."

"Absolutely." She hesitated only for a second. "Can I bring my cat?"


	4. To Bear With Unbearable Sorrow

**Chapter Three - To Bear With Unbearable Sorrow**

**Project: Quantum Leap**

**Saturday April 20, 1996**

The sun sank low, spreading darkness across the opposite desert horizon. The temperature cooled, but not by much, so Al kept the air-conditioning on while they drove. Ahead, a low mountain range sprawled in shadow, one of many that lay scattered across the wasteland, and he slowed the car to make the turn onto a dirt road.

"How much longer do I have to keep this thing on?" Elizabeth asked with mild annoyance, fingering the blindfold that covered her eyes. The back seat of Al's experimental-model Ferrari Testarosa felt incredibly cramped, and not being able to see made her especially uneasy.

"We'll be there soon," Al told her, glancing back. He felt horrible at having to blindfold his niece, but Weitzman had insisted that the recruit couldn't know the exact location of the Project until after they'd accepted the job and been sworn to secrecy. Thank goodness he hadn't known she'd be bringing the cat, or the senile senator would probably have mandated that the creature also be blindfolded.

Several minutes later, when Elizabeth felt the rough bumping and jolting change to smoothness, she guessed they'd driven back onto some sort of pavement. It grew darker, and the car stopped. She heard the doors open, then Al touched her on the shoulder and helped her step out.

"Tina, if you'll lead Liz, I'll get her things." His voice echoed slightly, giving Elizabeth reason to believe they'd pulled into a parking garage.

"Sure thing, Al." Tina smiled, glad to let Al grapple with both the small suitcase and the hard plastic pet cage holding one very annoyed cat. She led Elizabeth to an elevator, and held the door for Al.

Once inside, he set down the luggage, and reached over to pull Elizabeth's blindfold off.

"Thanks." She blinked her eyes, relieved to be able to see again, and studied the elevator with interest. It appeared basically normal in appearance, with stainless steel sides and a handrail running waist-high, but the panel held only one destination button. Standard industrial carpet covered the floor: short twisted fibers which could withstand a nuclear explosion without getting dirty, in a color whose name could not be agreed upon. After a moment, the elevator doors opened, and Al gestured for her and Tina to precede him out into a sterile-looking hallway.

The corridor curved, and opened into a foyer, blandly decorated in shades of gray and white. A few uncomfortable looking chairs lined the walls, making it obvious that this was not a room designed for lingering. Two Marine sergeants stood guard at a small desk, and Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at the weapons both carried as part of their uniform. What kind of work went on here?

The two men saluted briskly, and Al set down the suitcase and animal carrier to return the salute. "At ease, gentlemen."

Both relaxed, then the taller one nodded in greeting. "Good evening, Admiral; Dr. Martinez-O'Farrell." He smiled at Elizabeth and reached out to shake her hand. "Ms. Calavicci, I presume?"

"That's _Doctor_ Calavicci, Sergeant Halley," Al said pointedly.

The Marine stiffened with embarrassment and stepped back. "Of course, sir. My apologies, Doctor."

"It's all right," she assured him with a smile, briefly noting he had wide blue eyes famed by dark lashes. "Common mistake."

He nodded, then met Al's eye and gestured toward the luggage. "Shall I take Dr. Calavicci's things to the guest quarters, sir?"

"No, give her one of the executive suites on the main level," Al instructed, winking at Elizabeth. "She just might decide to stay, and it'll save us the hassle of moving her."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and don't forget the kitty," Tina cooed, bending over to pet Wellie through the narrow opening of the cage. "I'm sure he's hungry after that long ride."

Elizabeth glanced at the carrier, abashed at having forgotten about her beloved pet. Seeing her concern, Sergeant Halley quickly stated, "Don't worry, Doctor. I'll make sure your cat's well taken care of."

"Thank you." She smiled at him again. Somehow his military style haircut managed to make him look handsome, and she tried not to blush as she followed Al and Tina past the desk and into a standard-looking waiting lounge. Just beyond the row of inexpensive straight-backed chairs and metal end-tables stood another elevator, one which opened when they approached.

Inside, a narrow panel of buttons indicated at least twelve floors according to Elizabeth's quick estimate, and above them lay a recessed slot to receive an identification card.

"To get to the lower levels, you have to have specific security clearance," Al explained, inserting his card into the slot. "Only five people have regular access, with others being admitted on a need-only basis. Of course, being a member of the Retrieval Team, you'd have full, unrestricted access to all levels, at all times."

Elizabeth digested that, and her curiosity grew. "Why the need for such security measures? I mean, you blindfolded me so I wouldn't know where we are, there are _armed_ Marines back there, and now this strict internal security system. Why?"

"We wouldn't want any, like, psychos getting in here," Tina chirped, before Al could say anything.

"What Tina means," he quickly said, "is that the very nature of the project demands strict security. The Defense Department keeps a very tight reign on us to prevent contamination or leakage to or from the general public."

Her suspicions on the exact nature of the project grew stronger. She turned to face Al. "Earlier you said this was Dr. Beckett's project, right? And you needed me for 'research in quantum physics'... you're trying to develop time travel, aren't you?"

"Not exactly." Al grinned wryly. He'd definitely underestimated his niece. "As I mentioned, you'll be a member of what we call the 'Retrieval Team'."

Elizabeth furrowed her brow. "And what exactly are we retrieving?"

"Not what, _who_. And unfortunately, no one, yet."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do we, but that's another story. You remember the 'String Theory' we discussed earlier? Well, Dr. Beckett proved it. This project isn't trying to develop time travel – we've already succeeded."

Elizabeth drew a stunned breath, but Al continued without letting her comment.

"Eleven months ago, the 'powers that be' pressured us to produce results or risk losing funding, so Sam – Dr. Beckett – prematurely stepped into the Accelerator."

"He achieved quantum flux?" Elizabeth interrupted, her face lit with intense surprise.

"You mean, did it work? Yes, but not exactly as planned." His face changed, and Elizabeth began to decipher some of the pain she'd detected earlier. "He leaped back in time, but now we can't get him home."

"Retrieval..." And she understood.


	5. To Run Where the Brave Dare Not Go

**Chapter Four - To Run Where the Brave Dare Not Go**

**Project: Quantum Leap  
Same Day**

The elevator delivered them to a corridor with walls that slanted into an octagonal shape. Though brightly lit, no light fixtures appeared evident, and Elizabeth silently grinned at the futuristic application of modern technology. The corridor branched, and they followed it to the left.

"You may be wondering who designed this place," Al said, discerning his niece's next question before she could even open her mouth. "The government leased us a team of architectures to do the actual designing, but Sam and I both had a good deal of say-so. We told them what we wanted, and as long as it fit within the budget, they penciled it in. The 'future' look was Sam's idea."

As they walked slowly, Al told her the whole story. From his drunken attempts to kill a vending machine at Starbright, and Sam's subsequent rescue and offer of friendship, to the fateful night when Sam stepped into the accelerator and vanished, to a brief history of Sam's leaps in time, putting things right that had once gone wrong.

Finally, they paused in front of a sealed door. Al swiped his ID card in the reader, and the door slid upward. "This is Control."

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth stepped in first, looking around with sharp, wide-eyed curiosity. Her eyes took in the logically oriented jumble of brightly colored equipment and panels, and to her surprise, she was able to identify nearly everything. _Incredible! _The culmination of every dream she'd ever had, every fantasy, every reason for pushing herself through advanced classes at MIT... it all stood right in front of her, taking her breath away.

Pulling her thoughts together, she noticed the ramp at one end of the room, and walked over to it, curiously. "Does this lead to the accelerator?"

"Yep," Al confirmed, pressing a hidden button to open the door. "You have to go through the Imaging Chamber to get to it."

A second door slid open, on the far end of the Imaging Chamber, and Elizabeth stuck her head through the entrance, staring with fascination at the circular chamber. "I've never seen a radium accelerator ring so small! The Fermilab is a hundred times this size!"

"Enrico Fermi isn't experimenting with time travel," Al pointed out. "The small ring was needed in order for the... um, well, actually I don't know why it was needed. Sam explained it to me once, but..." He shrugged.

With a mixture of awe and inquisitiveness on her face, Elizabeth stepped back down into the main room. "How thick is the lead shielding around the accelerator ring?"

"One and a half meters," Tina answered, leaning against the wall. "Right, Al?"

He nodded. "The Imaging Chamber actually surrounds the accelerator, and in the event that the ring ever suffers a collapse, the chamber would be sealed off to protect the rest of the project from radiation."

"And the Imaging Chamber is how you communicate with Dr. Beckett in the past?"

Briefly, Al explained the nature of the holographic interface with Sam, and Elizabeth shook her head with disbelief. "This is incredible! What kind of computer runs this? I mean, with the complexities involved, it would have to be a parallel hybrid, with biological components, at the very least. But as far as I know, no one's even come close to that kind of technology yet!"

"No one but Dr. Beckett, with the help of a few insignificant technicians," purred a distinctly female voice.

Elizabeth glanced around, startled, but saw no one in the room but her, Al, and Tina. "What was that?"

"My name is Ziggy, Dr. Calavicci, and I'll thank you not to refer to me as a 'that'. Though my intelligence may be artificial, it is significantly higher than your own, and I don't like being referred to as an inanimate object."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped, and Al made a snorting noise. "That's enough, Ziggy. Liz is here to help bring Sam home, remember? If you're rude, she might not decide to stay."

"My memory systems are fully functional, Admiral, and I was merely stating facts."

A sphere, twice the size of a basketball, hung suspended from the ceiling, to which Elizabeth's eyes were drawn. A thousand pinpricks of light flashed on and off within a dark blue liquid, and she guessed the globe housed Ziggy's main biological systems. Addressing the glowing sphere, she stated, "No insult was intended, I assure you. Your name was Ziggy?"

"That is correct, Dr. Calavicci. And no insult taken."

The door slid open, and a short man hurried in, his attention fixed on a clipboard held tightly between his two hands. He reached the center of the room, then suddenly looked up and noticed the three people standing there. "Oh, hello." He gave a cheerful smile and nodded at each of them in turn. "Admiral, Tina... and you must be Dr. Calavicci."

Elizabeth nodded, and Tina introduced them. "This is Gooshie, our head programmer. He can tell you everything you want to know about Ziggy."

Gooshie extended a hand. "Pleased to meet you, Dr. Calavicci."

"Likewise," she said, holding her breath and forcing a smile. Never in her life had she encountered anyone with such a foul odor coming from his mouth.

Beside her, Al hid a grin. He leaned forward and whispered, "Halitosis. You'll get used to it after a few years."

She doubted it, but kept silent on the subject.

The main door opened again, and this time a middle-aged woman entered. Dark-skinned and pretty, she wore a short dress in a brilliant shade of red. Her face was a structure of stern practicality, but tiny lines around her eyes hinted at a sense of humor. She gave Elizabeth a measured smile. "So, this is the quantum physicist everyone's been talking about. I hear you also have a degree in psychology?"

"I do," Elizabeth replied. "But it's only a masters. I was going to go back to finish, but after seven years of college, I decided it was time for a break."

"Lucky for us," Al interjected with a smile. "Elizabeth Calavicci, meet Verbeena Beeks, our in-house shrink." Lowering his voice, he warned, "Be careful, she likes to analyze our minds."

"Not yours, Admiral," Verbeena quipped. "I like more of a challenge."

Al narrowed his eyes menacingly. "Just remember who issues the checks around here, 'Beena."

"You mean Ziggy?" She smiled innocently.

"Why don't you just go bite something?" Al growled.

"Good idea. Has Dr. Calavicci seen the mess hall, yet?"

"No, I haven't," Elizabeth answered for herself. She immediately liked this psychiatrist, and to watch the banter between old friends was interesting, but she felt her stomach rumble at the thought of food. She smiled sheepishly. "I'm starved."

Verbeena escorted Elizabeth to the mess hall, leaving the others in Control. The meal of the day was perfectly cooked spaghetti served with a thick covering of tomato sauce and a side of garlic bread; it proved surprisingly delicious. Fresh salads were also available, along with a choice of desserts and beverages.

"A glass of red wine would be perfect with this," Verbeena commented. "You're old enough to drink, aren't you?"

"I'm twenty-three. Unfortunately, I'm afraid if I drank anything now, I'd fall asleep." Elizabeth knew her age ought to be common knowledge; after all, everyone knew her name and areas of expertise. So it must be a test, and apparently she'd passed, because Verbeena sat back in her seat with a smile.

"Twenty-three years old, and the holder of not only a masters degree, but a Ph.D., as well. Tell me how you did that. Was it difficult?" Verbeena felt slightly guilty at her line of questioning, but it was her job to get to know any new candidates, and screen them for suitability. Perhaps the physicist would think it only friendly curiosity.

To be honest, Elizabeth recognized the test continued, but she didn't mind. It had been a long time since she'd had the opportunity to just _talk_ to someone other than her cat, so she nodded in answer to Verbeena's question. "It was a challenge, but I enjoyed it. The hardest part was being the youngest one in every class. MIT isn't exactly used to having a graduate student the same age as most of the freshmen."

"Mmmn." Verbeena chewed thoughtfully on a piece of warm garlic bread, as she reviewed the psych profile mentally. "What about your social life? Did you have many friends?"

"A few." Elizabeth shrugged indifferently, speaking around bites of spaghetti. "I was so busy trying to get all my credits in that I didn't have much time to hang around with people. Most weren't interested in the benefits of friendship with me, aside from how I might possibly help them with their latest exams. When I was working on my physics doctorate, I did date a third-year astrophysics student for a while."

"Oh, really?" Smiling, Verbeena encouraged her to continue.

She nodded. "It was nice, but I broke it off when he decided he was ready to explore a 'whole new world of physics', and I wasn't."

"Ouch." Verbeena grimaced. "That reminds me of a man I met not long after I graduated. He desperately wanted help with a report he was doing on the 'Psychological Aspects of the So-Called "One-Night-Stand"'."

Elizabeth laughed, and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "That's original!" She pushed aside her now-empty plate, and eyed a slice of chocolate cake.

Over dessert the two women became more comfortable with each other. Verbeena edged toward normal conversation, although by force of habit she analyzed nearly everything said. Despite the age difference between them, she thought the possibility of a friendship existed. Finally she made the suggestion, "Let's give you a tour of the rest of this place."

So, they walked the entire project-starting with the low-level storage facilities, and quickly moving to the upper-management offices, and technicians' laboratories, then on to the fully-equipped gymnasium, medical facilities, and staff apartments. By the time they found their way back to Control, Elizabeth had gained a friend, and made one of the most important decisions of her life.

"Oh, Liz, there you are!" Al finished lighting his cigar, and tucked the tiny lighter into a pocket. "I was beginning to think Dr. Beeks had psychoanalyzed you to death."

"On the contrary, we had a nice conversation," Elizabeth stated, noticing that Al had changed from the bright yellow suit he'd been wearing to one made of a shimmery blue fabric. "And she was kind enough to show me around."

"Did you enjoy your tour of the project, Dr. Calavicci?" The sultry woman's voice came from everywhere, surprising no one.

Elizabeth tilted her head to look at the sphere glowing overhead. "Yes, Ziggy, I did. Thank you."

"Good. You can hang around a couple of days, if you'd like," Al offered. "Get a feel for the place before you make any decisions."

"Oh, I've already made my decision."

"Oh, you have?" Al couldn't hide his worry. Even though he hadn't seen his niece in several years, he felt a growing attachment to her. "And... what have you decided?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering. "I'd like to stay."

Al grinned in relief, and gave her a light hug. "That's fantastic!"

"Indeed," Ziggy agreed. "And may I be the first to say, welcome to Project: Quantum Leap."


	6. To Right the Unrightable Wrong

**Chapter Five - To Right the Unrightable Wrong**

_**Three Years Later...**_

**Project Quantum Leap  
Saturday May 22, 1999**

Elizabeth tapped a pencil against the side of her desk, leaning back in the comfortably padded chair. It had to be comfortable; she spent most of her time sitting there. Al offered to replace it every year, no matter how expensive it might be, but the leather had softened just right, and the padding conformed exactly the way she liked. If her head ached, it certainly wasn't for lack of ergonomic support.

When Elizabeth initially agreed to join the Project, she'd had no idea the frustrations in store for her. Al made sure her paychecks were more than generous; she had her own suitably furnished quarters within the complex, plus the option of leasing any apartment she wished in the nearest city; unlimited food all hours of the day; a large office with state-of-the-art computer systems linked to Ziggy; yet she wasn't quite sure if any of it made up for the constant disappointments, failures, and mathematical backtracking.

She'd made a few improvements to the Project, of course. Small things, but useful. Like the idea for a backdoor into Ziggy's system which Gooshie had protested vehemently against at first, then taken hold of with bewildering enthusiasm. Now Ziggy could be contacted from outside the Project via telephone, if you knew the right number to dial and the proper access codes. Elizabeth had also thought of a way to connect vital staff members to the supercomputer no matter where they went, with a miniature version of Al's handlink which could be strapped to the wrist. Somehow she managed to come up with enough new ideas over the years to validate her presence there.

Her pencil continued to tap, while her other hand worked at the keyboard. Numbers whizzed past the screen, then stopped. She nodded to herself. Maybe this time it would work. She always said that, but each time hoped just the same. "Okay Ziggy, run the sequence again, but this time use the new equations I gave you."

"Running." A different set of equations flickered by, and Elizabeth held her breath, then the realistic, yet artificial voice sighed. "Still less than nine point four percent probability of success, Dr. Calavicci. May I suggest you take a break?"

Ignoring the suggestion, Elizabeth angrily dropped her pencil into an empty ceramic mug, then stood. "I don't understand! We should be getting much higher numbers this time. What if we reversed the secondary –"

Ziggy's voice held a bit of impatience. "You tried that already. Reversing the secondary equations results in an imbalance of the primary codes, remember?"

"This is impossible!" She ran her hands through her hair with frustration, wincing as her fingers caught in a tangle of curls.

"I've often noticed that humans tend to have higher levels of concentration and brain function when they are in a state of low stress. Again, may I suggest you take a break?" Ziggy's voice grew sly. "Perhaps pay a visit to Sergeant Halley's quarters?"

Elizabeth sat back down, and activated her computer terminal. The screen filled with rows of figures and equations, which she studied for a moment before saying aloud, "David and I broke up three months ago, Ziggy."

"I am aware that you terminated the relationship. However, I thought perhaps you might enjoy a reconciliation. When the Admiral 'makes up' with Tina, it always seems to put both of them in a good mood for at least forty-eight hours."

That was _not_ something she wanted to think about. She shook her head. "I'm not interested in making up with him, okay? My life is this project, and his is the military. I can't talk to him about _anything_, because it's all classified, and anyway, he thinks time travel is the stuff bad science fiction movies are made of." She stared at the computer screen for a moment longer, then switched it off. "I give up!"

Ziggy fell silent for a moment, then spoke plaintively. "If you give up, Dr. Calavicci, who will bring my father home?"

"Oh, Ziggy." Elizabeth sighed loudly, pushing away from her desk. "I don't mean forever. I mean, just for right now. I'm taking your advice and taking a break."

"Ah. Good idea."

—

Time travel... one of the universe's most closely guarded secrets; a concept which tickled the minds and imaginations of countless millions of people. Since the beginning of time itself, people strove to conquer it, and failed. Until now.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, then immersed herself headfirst in the cool waters of the project's indoor swimming pool, her thoughts centered on time travel, as usual. Her entire life revolved around the concept of a person being able to step into the past, changing things that went wrong, or at the very least, observing history as it happened. From high-school science classes to MIT's physics courses, she always kept as a goal the idea of one day discovering the secret to time travel.

Three years ago she learned that secret had already been unlocked by Dr. Samuel Beckett, one of the leading authorities on quantum physics. So now, instead of trying to figure out how to send a man into the past, her work centered on how to bring him back home. A task proving itself impossible.

She let the water flow around her, caressing the full length of her body as she swam from one end of the pool to the other. Gradually, her thoughts calmed and her mind relaxed, and by the time she stopped her laps to rest in the shallower water, she felt more at peace than she had in months.

"Dr. Calavicci, hello!"

The cheerful greeting caught her by surprise, but she quickly smiled at the man who'd just entered the room. "Hi, Gooshie."

Gooshie slipped off his bathrobe, revealing a bare chest and pale blue swim trunks. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. You're usually not here this time of day."

"No, actually I was just getting ready to leave." She pulled herself up the ladder, shivering a bit at the change in temperature from water to air.

"Well, I hope you enjoyed your swim." He handed her a towel, then draped his robe and another towel over the arm of a nearby lounge chair.

"I did, and thank you." Gratefully, she wrapped the towel around herself, and started walking away. Just when she'd reached the other side of the pool, near the door, Gooshie called after her, his voice echoing slightly.

"Dr. Calavicci! You forgot your card." He held up the thick plastic card that had a magnetic strip along one edge, and a metal clip at the other.

"Oh, thanks." She gave an appreciative grin. Even though most of the Project now relied on retinal ID scans to allow or deny access to certain areas, the gymnasium and pool room still used the old physical identification cards.

"Here!" He tossed the card across the width of the pool.

Elizabeth reached with both hands to catch it, but it fell short, dropping into the deep, chlorinated water. With a sigh, she watched the card sink down to the bottom of the pool.

"Oops. Hang on a second, I'll retrieve it for you." Gooshie quickly dove into the water, with Elizabeth looking on. A moment later, he surfaced, and swam to the edge of the pool and held the card up. "Here you go, Dr. Calavicci."

She stared at the proffered ID card, a wave of dizziness washing over her. A tangle of thoughts ran through her mind, striving for coherency, and she gasped with the impact they brought, sinking to her knees. _Could it be that simple?_

"Um, Dr. Calavicci? Are you all right?" Gooshie looked up at her with concern, still holding the dripping ID card up out of the water.

"Gooshie! Gooshie, you're a genius!" She snatched the card from his hand, and stood.

"Oh, well, thank you," he said, watching her run off. "What did I do?"

—

"Ziggy! I've got it!" Elizabeth hurried into her office, still wearing her bathing suit and the damp towel. Her hair dripped, sending cold rivulets down her shoulders, but she didn't notice. Activating her computer terminal, she began typing furiously.

"May I ask what precisely it is you've gotten?" Ziggy asked with polite curiosity.

"The answer, I hope." She kept typing, speaking while the figures rolled onto the screen. "We've been trying to get Dr. Beckett home, trying to pull him back from whatever or whoever has trapped him in time."

Ziggy added, "And we've been extremely unsuccessful."

"Exactly. We're trying to rescue him, but maybe we're not using the proper procedure, as it were. If someone falls off a boat into the ocean, how do you save them?"

"You throw them a life preserver," Ziggy replied matter-of-factly.

"But what if the life preserver detaches from the ship? And you can't pull them back in?"

"Then someone else would need to jump in the water, and..." The computer fell silent, stunned with the concept.

"Bingo." Elizabeth finished typing, and hit 'enter'. "Analyze this, Ziggy, and tell me – am I insane, or does this have a chance of working?"


	7. To Love Pure and Chaste From Afar

**Chapter Six - To Love Pure and Chase From Afar**

**Project: Quantum Leap  
Sunday May 30, 1999**

"_Blue moon keep on a'shining bright, you gotta bring me back my baby tonight... Blue moon... keep a'shining bright_... ." The quick beat of the song blasted Al's ears when he opened the door to his niece's office. Thinking of the early days of the project and all the times Sam had forced him to listen to Elvis, he rolled his eyes and grinned. Then he tilted his head, really listening. While the music playing was familiar, it wasn't the King's voice. Al felt a queer shiver run through him when he recognized Sam's voice. _What the heck?_

"Liz?"

The young physicist didn't look up from the stack papers she was going through, so Al raised his voice. "_Liz!_"

Startled, Elizabeth reached over and flicked the music off. "Sorry, I didn't hear you knock."

"How could you?" Al shook his head, then glanced at the stereo controls. "What was that?"

"Um... Elvis?" Elizabeth tried to look innocent. No one in the Project knew she had those music files, if anyone else even knew they existed.

Al folded his arms across his chest and stood taller. "Try again. And this time explain why you have Dr. Beckett's version of 'Blue Moon.'"

"Well, you see..."

Ziggy's voice interrupted calmly. "I gave Dr. Calavicci access to recording files stored in my father's personal data system."

"Those are _personal_ files, Ziggy. Why on earth would you share them with Liz?" Al glared at Ziggy's speaker, then at his niece.

Elizabeth didn't let Ziggy answer. "I asked her to. I wanted..." and she paused, not entirely sure how to explain. "I needed something to connect with. The rest of you know Dr. Beckett personally, but all I've ever seen are his articles and lecture transcripts and theories. Listening to his music helps me to know him. It makes it easier to keep searching for a way to bring him home. As it turns out, we have similar tastes in music."

Al smiled thinly at first, then seemed to relax. "It makes sense, I suppose. And I don't think he'd mind."

Elizabeth let out a breath. She'd been afraid Al would revoke her access, and she didn't think she could bear that. Somehow she _had_ connected with the unseen voice, and more and more often she found herself playing one of the many songs Dr. Beckett had placed in Ziggy's memory banks before he leaped.

Al rubbed his forehead, almost forgetting his reason for coming up to Liz's office. "Ziggy said you wanted me to look over that new retrieval theory you came up with?"

"Oh, that's right." Elizabeth nodded, pulling up the file on her terminal. She copied it to a mini disk, then nervously handed it to Al. "Ziggy says it looks promising."

"They all do. Someday we'll hit on one that actually works." He slipped the disk into his pocket, trading it for a cigar. "I'm on my way to my office right now, so I'll look at it up there."

"Dr. Beckett leap yet?" Elizabeth knew the answer, her personal computer was programmed to display the current situation, but she wanted to prolong Al's viewing of her new theory as long as possible. She figured he would probably have a stroke when he read it, and she'd best be as far away from him as possible when that happened.

"No, Sam's still there. Ziggy says he has four-and-a-half hours until Billie Jean has the baby. Why?"

"Well... ." She looked down at her keyboard, tapping the space bar absently while trying to think of an excuse. Then it occurred to her, and she smiled genuinely. "You said you would let me Observe with you sometime. I thought maybe this leap I could."

"Oh, I forgot about that." Al chewed the tip of his cigar thoughtfully, seeing the hope in Elizabeth's intelligent green eyes.

"I'm dying to see what a pregnant man looks like," she added with a mischievous smile. "Imagine the article I could write on this one: _Time Travel and the Men it Impregnates_!"

"He is _not_ pregnant," Al insisted, scowling with annoyance that was only partially mock. "He only thinks he is, and he's driving me crazy talking about feeling the baby kick, and having cravings, and morning sickness... geeze."

Elizabeth laughed at the irony, then put on an imploring expression. "I'd still like to see it. So can I Observe? Please?"

"Liz, it takes a lot of energy," he reminded, knowing he could never deny her when she pleaded like that. She reminded him too much of his first wife, Beth. "And you won't be able to hear him, or – "

"I know, I know!" Elizabeth interrupted him, unable to handle his deliberate stalling. "I must maintain physical contact with you if I want to be able to view Dr. Beckett and his surroundings, and he won't be able to see or hear me, because Ziggy hasn't finished upgrading the Imaging Chamber program yet. Now, may I _please _Observe?"

"Well, I've got Ziggy running some data right now, so I won't be going back in for another hour," Al said slowly, enjoying his niece's anxiousness. "But I tell you what. I'll go down to Control and see if I can't get Ziggy to re-route enough power so you can join me for a few minutes."

"Oh, thank you!" Elizabeth grinned in delight. Not only did she delay his reading her theory, but she talked him into letting her try something she'd been anxious to do since the day she'd arrived at the project. "I owe you one."

"I'll add it to the list, kid," Al smiled back. He touched his pocket to make sure he still had the disk, then left.

—

"Oh, this is incredible!" Elizabeth gripped Al's arm tightly as a three-dimensional view of the past unfolded around them. They stood on a narrow, one-lane road, with weed-infested fields stretching out on either side, and a dusty blue sky overhead. "Oklahoma, right?"

"Yeah, that's right." Al glanced at the handlink, checking the power levels. "1959... and there's Sam, now."

Elizabeth saw the man ambling toward them, and instantly forgot her surroundings. Her heartbeat quickened, and she focused her eyes on his face. This was Dr. Samuel Beckett – the world's first and only time traveler, and the man she was charged with bringing home. Except for a grimace of discomfort, he looked exactly like the photographs she'd seen of him. That, and the fact he wore an old-fashioned two-piece maternity dress.

For a few moments, she was too stunned to say anything. Then she noticed the way Sam pressed a hand against his back, as if in pain, and concern prompted her to ask, "Is he okay?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure he's fine." Al replied. "Listen, we're just about out of power, so... ."

Reluctantly, she nodded and prepared to let go of his arm. "Thank you."

"Anytime, sweetheart." He winked at her, then she disappeared, and he turned his full attention to Sam.

—

The next morning, Al came into his office late. Sam had leaped out, and in the respite between leaps, there wasn't much work for him to do. Relaxing with a cup of hot coffee, he remembered the mini disk Elizabeth had given him. He found it and popped it into his computer, then leaned back to scan the contents.

A few minutes later, he angrily sat forward. "Absolutely not!" he shouted. "Ziggy, are you crazy or something?" He ejected the disk and tossed it onto his desk.

"_I_ am completely sane, Admiral. The idea originated from Dr. Calavicci's brain, not mine."

"And whose brilliant reasoning urged us to recruit a child quantum physicist in the first place?" he demanded belligerently.

Ziggy held her tongue for a moment, then couldn't help but point out, "Admiral, she has proved a valuable member of the team."

"Thank you, Ziggy," Elizabeth said, stepping into Al's office. With a hint of indignation, she added, "And while twenty-three is hardly considered underage, that was three years ago! I really don't think 'child' is an accurate term to describe me."

"You're right. How about _lunatic_?" He glared at her with a mixture of anger and concern. "Under no circumstances are we sending someone else back there too. It's bad enough we have Sam bouncing around in the past, messing things up! What makes you so sure we could retrieve both leapers?"

Elizabeth sighed tolerantly, expecting the argument. "I've worked the equations out several times, and Ziggy double checked my work."

"And you trust her?" Al snorted. "In case you forgot, she helped Sam write the original equations... the ones that _didn't_ work."

"Admiral," Ziggy cut in. "It is not my fault Dr. Beckett is stranded in the past. The original retrieval program should have worked."

"But it didn't," Elizabeth said, leaning against her uncle's desk. "And this theory might explain why!"

"Let me get this straight. You think that Sam's 'life preserver', as it were, got disconnected, which is why he can't leap home?"

"Or cut, yes."

Al rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "And you want someone to jump in after him?"

"Exactly. Ziggy would link them neurologically, using one of the biochips that you and Dr. Beckett both have implanted in your brain. The leap would only be long enough to establish contact with Dr. Beckett, and then both would re-materialize in the Accelerator.Just like someone diving into the ocean to rescue a drowning victim, and both of them being pulled out."

Al wavered only for a split second. He wanted his best friend home again, but to send someone else back in time to do it? He shook his head firmly. "No. The risk factor is too high. The committee would never approve it."

Elizabeth didn't give up. This was her idea, her plan, and she knew it would work. "Listen to me. They'll approve it if you recommend it. Yes, it's a slight risk, but we have to try! In the three years I've been here, this is the best plan that's come up – the only plan that has even a chance of succeeding."

"It's a foolish plan, Liz. I can't believe you'd even consider it! And I will not – "

Ziggy interrupted. "Dr. Calavicci is right, Admiral. Theoretically, this is the best chance of retrieving my father we've ever had."

"In theory, maybe!" Al growled, "What about reality? What if all it does is irritate the Time Lord, or whoever's making Sam leap?"

"You're not considering this objectively!" Elizabeth protested. She paused, raising an eyebrow. "Time Lord?"

"You're too young, you wouldn't know. And you're right – I'm not considering this objectively. It's not that I don't want to bring Sam home. God knows I want that more than anything in the world." He looked at her, shaking his head. "But not enough to order someone to risk their life on the vague chance this theory might work. Liz, do you understand? I can't – I _won't_ bring this idea to the committee."

"Yes," she said, letting out a sigh of defeat. She did understand how Al felt, and since Al was as stubborn as she was, she fully realized it would only be a waste of time to argue with him. "Come on, Ziggy. Let's leave 'Admiral Who' to his work."

As she slowly walked back to her own office, Elizabeth fingered the disk she'd palmed from Al's desk. She would not push Al to let her test the theory, but she wouldn't give up on it either.


	8. To Try When Your Arms Are Too Weary

**Chapter Seven - To Try When Your Arms Are Too Weary**

_**One Month Later...**_

**Project: Quantum Leap  
Wednesday June 30, 1999**

Elizabeth sat at her desk, feet propped up, mindlessly signing requisition forms._ Elizabeth J. Calavicci, Ph.D... Elizabeth J. Calavicci, Ph.D... _She shook her hand, willing the cramps away with a sigh. "Ziggy, put some music on, would you? The radio, any station."

"Certainly, Dr. Calavicci." At random, the computer picked a radio station and piped the music in through her main speaker.

When the music started playing, Elizabeth smiled, recognizing the middle of a popular song from the year before. "Thank you, Ziggy."

"Glad to help," Ziggy replied wistfully. For once, she didn't make any comment about how her services could be better used.

"_And that was from the summer of 1998_," the disk jockey announced. "_Now, here's one from 1974, wow! That's old!_"

The music began playing; Elizabeth popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth, and kept signing papers. Then, the final words of the song caught her attention, and she dropped the pen with a start. She sat there for a minute, not believing what she'd heard. "Ziggy! Did you hear that song?"

"Of course, Doctor."

"Do you have a recording of it?" Ziggy answered in the affirmative, and immediately, Elizabeth requested, "Play it! And display the lyrics on my computer screen."

"_As I travel in space and time, I want to stay, I want to go; You see my face, but it's not mine! But you can't see, you'll never know... How can we meet, if I'm not there? Our hearts may touch, our bodies close, but time divides what we might share and sends a soul where no one goes..._

"_I'm just a traveler, upon the sea of Time, of Life, of Fate's wide wheel; Just a traveler, in this mystery; The me I have is all that's real to me._

Elizabeth closed her eyes, listening intently. Certain phrases of the song sprang out at her, raising a lump in her throat.

"_We all begin this life alone; we live, we love, all through the years; Yet deep inside, we long for home, but it recedes, obscured by tears... I cried a time, it falls past me; The door of fate remains asleep; but in my soul this hope burns free: Oh, please let there be one final leap!"_

The chorus played again, then the music faded into a silence which Elizabeth hesitated to break. The words of the song echoed in her head, the plaintive cry of someone lost and begging for a way home. She took a shaky breath, and realized tears had fallen down her cheeks.

"Didn't – " Her voice broke, and she started again. "Dr. Beckett leaped into a rock singer last week, didn't he?"

"That is correct," Ziggy answered. "'Tonic' of the 1970's rock band –"

"I don't care what the band was called, Ziggy. Dr. Beckett wrote that song!" Elizabeth stood and haphazardly stacked the papers on her desk, disregarding whether she'd signed them yet or not. If she'd been uncertain about her idea before, her mind was now fully made up. Dr. Beckett's voice pleaded with her from the past, she could not deny him. To her surprise, her hands were shaking slightly. "Ziggy, did you finish that program?"

It took only a nanosecond for Ziggy to guess which program Dr. Calavicci referred to, and to interpret her plans. "I did, but in order to establish the link between yourself and my father, you will need a neurological implant."

"Let me worry about that," Elizabeth said. "Everything else is set up, right?"

"Yes." Ziggy paused. "Doctor, we haven't yet received permission to go through with your theory. I realize this doesn't matter to you. Nor does it matter to me. However, there are security precautions in place to prevent unauthorized access to the Accelerator."

"I know. I'm already working on a program to disrupt the main security protocols." She pulled a disk out from the top drawer of her desk, and slid it into the computer drive. "Check this out and let me know what you think. Meanwhile, where's Dr. Beeks?"

—

**Friday July 2, 1999**

Elizabeth wrapped a towel around her wet hair, then quickly exchanged her robe for a pair of jeans and a shirt. A knock sounded at her door, not unexpected. She yelled, "Come on in!" while pulling on a pair of socks, then walked out into the living room. Verbeena stood by the door, a gray and white cat winding around her ankles in greeting.

"You made it. Good. I'm just running a minute behind," Elizabeth said.

"No rush. Al and Tina won't be back from Santa Fe until late this evening, and I made sure all the techs have the weekend off. We'll have the lab to ourselves." Verbeena sat on the single couch, idly running a hand across the blue and green striped pattern, while Elizabeth disappeared into the bathroom.

As she listened to the muted sounds of a blow-dryer, Verbeena stroked Wellie's ears, and again wondered if she was crazy for agreeing to help the cat's owner. While she didn't know the specifics of why Dr. Calavicci needed a neural bio-chip implanted in her head, she had niggling suspicions. Suspicions which, if correct, said that if they got caught, both could end up dismissed from the project, if not court-martialed. Yet, she volunteered her services as a make-shift surgeon, hoping that she hadn't forgotten everything she'd learned in medical school. Did that make her crazy? _Probably_. She just hoped she wouldn't end up inheriting custody of Elizabeth's cat.

Elizabeth stepped out of the bathroom, her now-dry hair hanging around her shoulders in naturally loose, wild curls. "I'm ready."

Verbeena patted the cat's head one last time, then stood and gestured toward the door. "After you, Doctor."

The laboratories were deserted as Dr. Beeks had promised. Rows of glass tubes and unattended microscopes filled one room, which they passed straight through. Beyond it lay an abandoned lab, then a security door. The heavy door slid aside when they approached it, revealing a small room lined with thick glass cabinets. Most were dark and empty. The air felt chilled, and both doctors knew the temperature of this room was significantly lower than the rest of the Project. It had to be, to protect the neural chips.

Elizabeth walked straight to the one cabinet from which a pale light glimmered. The door didn't open when she tested it, but she'd expected that. Holding her hand posed over the numerical keypad, she glanced at the ceiling speaker to the third member of their conspiracy. "Ziggy?"

"Seven, three, three, one, nine, four, zero," the female voice supplied.

Elizabeth entered the code, then pulled at the door again. It slid open at her touch, and a white cloud of cold vapor rolled out. She reached inside and pulled out a rack with four glass vials suspended from it. Two were empty. Their contents had already been implanted: one in Sam Beckett, the other in Al Calavicci. Two held a tiny black chip each, floating in a clear liquid. She picked one at random and handed it to Verbeena, then replaced the rack and closed the cabinet door.

Verbeena took a deep breath, looking at the tiny chip floating in the vial. Doing this definitely made her involved, and if either of them were caught at this point, both would face grave consequences. Ziggy, of course, would be beyond suspicion.

She carefully set the vial down on a padded counter, then unrolled a medical kit she'd put together. "I'm going to give you a local anesthetic, Liz. It'll numb the area so you won't feel anything."

"That's good." Elizabeth gave a small nervous laugh, then leaned over the counter, positioning herself as comfortably as possible. With one hand, she swept her hair up to expose her neck.

Verbeena administered the numbing agent, and waited for it to take effect. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you, Liz. Now's a good a time as any, because you can't run away from me, or avoid answering."

"Why am I suddenly worried?" Elizabeth's voice echoed slightly off the metal counter, which was right below her mouth.

"Can you feel this?" Verbeena touched the back of Elizabeth's head experimentally.

"That's the question? Well, if you're poking my skull, the answer's no – I can't feel a thing."

"Good. Are you homosexual?"

Shocked at the completely unexpected question, Elizabeth turned her head to look at the psychiatrist. "I beg your pardon?"

"You know – lesbian. Are you? And it's a good thing I didn't have the scalpel there, or your head would now look like Frankenstein's." She repositioned Elizabeth's head, and made a tiny incision at the junction of her head and neck.

"No, 'Beena, I am certainly not gay. Why would you ask?"

Verbeena picked up the chip with a pair of tweezers. "I know your psych profile shows you as introverted, but to the best of my knowledge, you've only seriously dated two men in your life, and, correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think you've slept with either of them."

"I haven't," Elizabeth admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm homosexual. It just means I'm being very... selective."

"Ah. That's an unusual trait these days."

"Blame my parents. They waited until they were married before doing anything, and even if it's an old-fashioned idea, I decided I wanted to imitate them. You think it's a stupid idea?" She didn't know why, but Verbeena's opinion mattered to her, a lot.

"Actually, I think it's romantic. Waiting for 'Mr. Right'." Verbeena smiled as she finished placing the bio-chip. "Okay, we're almost done here. I've just got to put a couple of stitches in to keep the incision wound closed."

"Good." Elizabeth gave a small sigh of relief. While the surgery itself didn't hurt, the position of leaning over the counter was uncomfortable. "Got any more head-shrinking questions for me, while I can't escape?"

"Unless you'd like to discuss all your childhood fears and achievements, nope." She knotted the final stitch. "The stitches will dissolve on their own in a couple of days. Just keep the site clean, and it should be fine."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said sincerely, standing upright. "Your help means a lot to me."

Verbeena shook her head, and put on a look of confusion. "What help? I haven't done anything. In fact, I haven't seen you all day."

Understanding, Elizabeth smiled. She gave the doctor a quick hug, and whispered, "Thanks anyway, 'Beena."

—

**Sunday July 4, 1999**

Elizabeth strode quietly down the hall. Despite the late hour, she was wide awake, her mind racing with what she planned to do. She'd seen to every last detail, double and triple checked every equation, every nuance... yet her thoughts still ran through the theory, making sure she'd considered everything, that no flaw marred the program.

Today was the best day for her to do this, since most of the Project's staff had disappeared for the holiday weekend. Only a light staff kept everything running, and since the night shift began, the entire lower level should be deserted. Al had used the Imaging Chamber to check on Sam a few hours earlier, so if things went properly, no one would interfere with her plans.

She reached the door to Control, entered her code number, then looked into the scanner. An infrared beam flicked across her eye, confirming her identity and security clearance. The red light blinked to green, and the door immediately opened.

Working quickly, Elizabeth closed the door behind her, then crossed to the control board and inserted an unlabeled disk. The program it contained would, with luck, circumvent the security blocks that were installed to prevent exactly what she was trying to do. While it loaded, she slipped off her lab coat to reveal the skin-tight, white 'Fermi-suit' that would allow her to make the quantum leap.

"Is the virus uploaded, Ziggy?" She glanced toward the secured main door, nervously expecting someone to rush in and stop her.

"Affirmative," the computer replied, her voice calm and steady.

Elizabeth passed through the Imaging Chamber to the Accelerator door, and pressed the control panel. While the door slipped upward with a metallic hiss, she took a deep breath. She knew her actions were extremely questionable, at best. Al, as Project manager, had already denied her request to try her program. She could lose her job, or even face jail time, if someone caught her before she brought Dr. Beckett home. The possibility that her retrieval program wouldn't work didn't even cross her mind. Her calculations were flawless, if anything went wrong, it would _not_ be her fault.

Still, it took courage to say the words and commit herself to this action. The words from his song rang in her head, _"Please let there be one final leap..." _Bolstered by that timeless plea, she let her breath out and said, "Activate the Accelerator, Ziggy."

There was a moment of dead silence, nearly causing Elizabeth to panic, but the virus program worked. The circular chamber came suddenly alive with a distinct humming, and a thick shaft of light broke through the center. A dense mist gathered along the floor of the chamber, glistening in the bright light.

"Now, run the program," Elizabeth requested, only the tiniest quiver in her voice.

"'Liz-Retrieval-One'engaged. You may step into the Accelerator," Ziggy said. "And I suggest you hurry. Admiral Calavicci has already been informed of the unauthorized access and is en route as we speak."

Elizabeth paused at the edge of the chamber and spared a glance backward. An unexpected wave of doubt hit her out of nowhere. "Ziggy, if this doesn't work..."

"There is no time to consider that. You must leap now – we won't get a second chance. Bring my father home."

"Right." Elizabeth breathed out and stepped into the brilliant white light. The mist surrounded her, filling her nostrils with its damp metallic odor. Her hair whipped around her face, billowed by the wind that appeared out of nowhere. She sensed an electrical tingle course through her body as the Quantum Flux enveloped her.

Al burst into Control, his bathrobe flapping around him. "Ziggy, what's – " He stopped suddenly, seeing his niece standing in the middle of the Accelerator chamber, with her arms lifted above her head. A look of incredulous joy appeared on her face as the temporal energy surged through her body. Al felt as if someone had punched him. "No!" he shouted desperately. "Stop her!"

"I'm sorry, Admiral," Ziggy reported, without a trace of smugness. "That's impossible. She's leaping."

A second later, Elizabeth vanished.


	9. To Reach the Unreachable Star

**Chapter Eight - To Reach the Unreachable Star**

**Paso Robles, California  
May 18, 1958**

A brilliant light washed over Dr. Sam Beckett, and for a moment he thought God, or Time, or Fate had caught him again to send him spinning through time, to right yet another wrong in the past. However, when the light faded he remained in the same place. A classic Thunderbird drove past and with slight embarrassment he realized its headlights had reflected in the window a moment ago, fooling him into thinking he had leaped.

With a sigh, he turned away from the window and finished dressing. This time he'd leaped into a young man named Johnny, in central California during the late 1950s. According to the information Al had given him, he had three days to prevent the mother of the man he'd leapt into from committing suicide; meanwhile he needed to entertain Johnny's girlfriend. The date had been made before he leaped in and, as Al assured him, he couldn't afford to interfere with the social life of the person he'd temporarily replaced.

Sam checked the image in the mirror one last time and declared himself acceptable. On the way out the door, he grabbed the set of keys waiting on a hook and examined them. If the bronze key belonged to the seldom-used deadbolt on the front door, then the large silvery key had to start the convertible parked downstairs. It did, and he arrived at the girl's apartment early.

The door stood ajar and he could hear the lively beat of vintage rock and roll playing. "It's modern now, though," he reminded himself quietly. Sometimes it was hard to keep everything straight in his head, but he couldn't afford to make any mistakes such as talking about something which hadn't been invented yet, or calling old fashioned something which was currently new. He tried to identify the music as he entered the living room and shut the front door behind him, but every time he thought he remembered, the singer's name evaporated from his mind. Finally he decided it really didn't matter.

Cautiously peeking into one of the two bedrooms, he spied the pretty blonde who must be Johnny's girlfriend, her ponytail swaying wildly as she danced to the rhythm of the song. Silently, Sam watched the way she gyrated her hips and swiveled around the room, thankful Al wasn't there to make lewd comments.

The song finished and she flopped onto the bed.

"Not bad," he said, making his presence known. A half-memory rose, so he added, "You're going to love the 'Twist'."

"What?" She sat up, startled by his voice, then smiled. "Oh, Johnny, it's you! What are you doing here?"

"We have a date, don't we?" Instantly he felt nervous. What if Al's information had been wrong? What if this wasn't Johnny's girlfriend, Sarah Jane? What if he'd gone to the wrong apartment? What if... He forced his line of thinking to stop, looking at the girl for an answer.

Her blue eyes clouded with guilt. "I am so sorry, Johnny. I completely forgot!"

"That's all right." Sam shrugged, relieved that the mistake hadn't been his. An awkward silence filled the room, until another song started on the radio. He recognized it immediately as one of his favorites, so he asked impulsively, "You want to dance?"

"Sure." She grinned and rose from the bed, obviously grateful for his quick forgiveness. Then suddenly her smile faded and she paled visibly.

"Sara Jane?" Sam asked, concerned. "Are you all right?"

A look of confusion crossed her face as she steadied herself. She blinked a couple of times, then clarity flashed in her eyes. "It worked," she whispered, glancing rapidly around the bedroom. "It really worked!"

"Sara Jane?" Sam looked at her with his brow furrowed. Her eyes focused on him, but without recognition, and he took a step toward her, uncertain what to do. He thought about what she said, and asked, "What worked?"

"My..." She tried to answer him, but suddenly couldn't find the thought. What had worked? And why did she have the feeling there was something she needed to do... someone she had to find? Her mind refused to supply answers, so she scanned the bedroom again, searching for a clue. Nothing! But when her eyes met his, she felt unexpectedly lightheaded.

At that same moment, Sam felt an electric tingle sweep over and through him, and for a moment he thought he might leap prematurely. He couldn't figure out why he would leap now, when he hadn't yet accomplished anything, but before he could reason on it, the sensation passed. At the same moment, the young woman gasped, closing her eyes and swaying where she stood. Quickly, he stepped forward, and grabbed her arms to support her. "Come on now," he ordered. "Don't pass out on me! Sara Jane..."

His voice trailed off in surprise, for at his touch her features blurred and changed. Blonde hair darkened into a shade of brown so deep it could almost be called black, and formed into long, tangled curls. When her eyes opened, wider, and a clear green instead of the blue they'd been earlier, he realized with shock that she must be another leaper.

Stunned, he took a step backwards, releasing her.

She stood still and looked at him intently, analyzing the streak of white that touched the front of his hair, and the friendly, though extremely inquisitive hazel eyes staring at her. "I know you," she said, her voice quavering slightly.

He studied her, a crease appearing between his eyes. Something about her seemed very familiar, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't place it. "Do you?"

She nodded slowly, as though unsure. "Doctor Beckett?"

"That's right. I'm Sam Beckett." A thousand questions popped into his mind, but he held his tongue, seeing her bewilderment as she looked around the room. She moaned softly, disappointment etched into her face in such detail that Sam reached out automatically to console her. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she replied after a moment, distraught and confused. "This – this isn't – I don't know. Something's just not right."

"Okay. Here, sit down." Sam led her to the edge of the bed, and sat beside her, one arm around her shoulders reassuringly. The analytical part of his mind thought she might be going into shock, so he wanted to keep her calm. "How about we start with something simple. Can you tell me your name?"

The woman concentrated for a minute to recall, searching the fragmented regions of her memory. Her mouth opened as if to answer, but then she shook her head. "I can't remember!"

"All right, that's okay. Don't worry about it." Sam studied her thoughtfully. Now would be a perfect time for Al to show up with a few answers. Thinking of his Observer, he suddenly realized one reason she looked so familiar. "Do you know, you look like Al," he told her gently. "My friend, Albert Calavicci. Does that name sound familiar?"

"Calavicci, yes!" She smiled with plain, intense relief. "My name's Calavicci!"

"That's wonderful," Sam exclaimed. "You must be related somehow." Because of the obvious resemblance she couldn't be a wife, but that didn't leave many other possibilities.

"Related to... Al?" The idea sounded vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn't grab firm enough hold on the memory to make it make sense. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Leaping really tends to turn your brain to Swiss cheese." He gave a wry smile.

"The leaping," she repeated, her eyes going wide with recall. "I leaped! But – why am I still here? I should – we should have..."

"Should have what?" Sam asked eagerly. He moved his hand to her shoulder, looking into her eyes. He didn't want to push her, but at the same time, this seemed important. "Do you remember why you leaped?"

"I think, some kind of experiment." She thought for a minute, and a brief image of a distraught man came into her mind. "He tried to stop us, but it was too late."

"Who tried to stop you?" Sam urged her to remember, wondering the circumstances of her having leaped. Given that she appeared related to Al, it seemed likely she worked at his Project, but the fact that her experiment involved the Accelerator, and someone tried to stop her, made him intensely curious. "Was it Ziggy?"

She frowned, and an image of the highly intelligent computer flashed into her mind. "No, Ziggy helped me."

Sam nodded. "Then it must have been Al who tried to stop you, or maybe Gooshie."

"Al?" The distressed man she'd seen a moment ago in her memory? She nodded, and it seemed right.

"But why would Ziggy let you leap if Al was so against it?"

She thought for a second, then shrugged. "She misses you."

–-

**Stallion's Gate, New Mexico  
Project: Quantum Leap**

**July 4, 1999**

"Where is she?" Al demanded, tying his robe with a violent gesture.

With a frightened look, Gooshie rushed over to the control console and pressed a few buttons. "Um." He glanced at the Admiral anxiously. "Well, actually, Ziggy's having a hard time getting a lock."

Fuming, Al started to slam his fist against the console, then thought better of it, and curled his hands tightly. He kept his voice even, but the rage lurked dangerously close to the surface. "Ziggy, she tested that insane theory of hers, didn't she? And you helped her?"

"Dr. Calavicci and I both considered the risk acceptable considering the odds of success," she replied matter-of-factly. "Please hold your anger, Admiral. I need all my concentration for this task."

Al closed his eyes, and waited. After what seemed an eternity, the Accelerator Chamber suddenly lit up. His eyes popped open, and he held his breath. A loud vibrating hum filled the room, growing in pitch until he felt it unnervingly in his bones. Even Gooshie squirmed at the sensation. Then the sound began to fade. Silence, deafening after the previous auditory assault, took over. Several minutes passed where no one spoke or even moved, and finally Al could take it no more. "Well?"

Ziggy sounded almost morose in her declaration. "The retrieval program did not perform as expected. I am unable to get a lock on Dr. Calavicci. Further, no one new has appeared in the Waiting Room."

"What does that mean?" Al asked, a chill running through him. Gooshie stood there wringing his hands and refused to meet the Admiral's gaze.

"I do not know, Admiral," Ziggy answered. "It could mean that wherever she is, Dr. Calavicci is there as herself, or that the leapee went somewhere other than our Waiting Room." She paused, then continued. "There is still the possibility that when Dr. Beckett leaps naturally, the retrieval program will bring both of them home. However, since I am unable to lock onto Dr. Calavicci, that outcome is uncertain."

"How uncertain?" When Ziggy did not answer, he turned to Gooshie, who looked ill. "Tell me! What are the chances that either of them will come home at the end of this leap?"

Ziggy finally answered, quietly and with as much regret in her voice as was possible for a computer.

Al stalked back and forth across the room, muttering a gamut of choice Navy curses. When he ran out of words, he lifted his gaze up to Ziggy's flickering sphere. "I'm holding you personally responsible, you egocentric pile of recycled silicon. Find her!" he ordered, turning away so Gooshie wouldn't see the fear in his eyes.

Lowering his voice, so that even the computer couldn't hear, he repeated, "Find her."


	10. This Is My Quest

**Chapter Nine - This is My Quest**

**Paso Robles, California  
May 19, 1958**

She woke slowly, letting herself enjoy the sensation of relaxing without the blaring of her alarm clock signaling the start of a new day of computations and arguments with a know-it-all hybrid computer. But why hadn't her alarm gone off? Sleepily, she rolled over to see the time, and found herself facing a light pink wall instead.

"I hate pink," she said, sitting up and looking around the pink and white decorated bedroom with bleary-eyed confusion.

"I said you should have gone for the yellow wallpaper, but do you ever take advice from me? Oh, no. Of course not." A girl of about nineteen stuck her blonde head through the door. "And you'd better get up. Isn't Johnny supposed to be here at seven-thirty?"

She nodded, slowly remembering the events of yesterday. 1958! She had actually leaped and was now stuck in 1958 with very little memory. Dr. Beckett, aka Johnny Bircham, had stayed late the night before, trying to help her remember useful details of the experiment which had brought her here. He'd also tried to fill her in on things she'd need to know to successfully pass as Sara Jane Evans. Generously, he'd offered to give her a ride to work this morning, a suggestion simplified tremendously by the fact that she'd leaped into "his" girlfriend, and that they worked at the same department store downtown.

She ran a hand through her hair, glancing around for a clock. Not seeing one immediately, she asked, "What time is it now?

The girl, earlier revealed to be Sara Jane's younger sister Karen, smiled tauntingly. "Quarter past seven."

Gasping, she jumped out of bed. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

"You've got an alarm clock. Besides, you were up so late, I figured you needed your beauty sleep." She shrugged, then narrowed her eyes with mock suspicion. "What were you guys doing up until midnight, anyway?"

"Talking." She searched through the dresser for something to wear, but found only a number of sweaters, socks and underthings. "What do I usually wear to work?"

"What?" Karen gave her 'sister' a strange look.

"Oh, never mind." She moved to the closet, hoping to find something hanging up. The closet held a number of skirts, suits, and fancy dresses, nothing she'd ever consider wearing to work at a small-town department store.

"Your white skirt is in the laundry, your pink suit is still at the dry-cleaners, and I haven't mended your angora sweater yet," Karen said helpfully. "And don't think I didn't notice you changed the subject, Sara Jane."

"We had a lot to talk about." She sorted through the dresses, wondering which, if any, would be appropriate for the time period. Finally she picked the simplest looking one and threw it on the bed. "I'm getting in the shower. If Dr. Beck – uh, if Johnny gets here, tell him I'll be right out."

The bathroom stood between the two bedrooms, floor and walls neatly tiled in a popular '50s style. An antique bathtub sat in the corner, and she hurried to start the water running. It took her a moment to figure out the old faucet, but as she adjusted the water temperature, she received a brief impression of familiarity... her grandmother's bathtub? The memory was faint and undecipherable, so she ignored it and plugged the drain to let the water fill.

The water felt wonderfully hot against her skin as she slid into the tub, and she let herself relax, forgetting her alien surroundings and lack of memory with a grateful sigh. The ringing of a doorbell brought her back to reality a few minutes later, and she hurried to find the soap. Out of necessity, she skipped a shampoo; one look at the large men's razor sitting on the edge of the tub convinced her shaving could wait too.

While the water drained, she wrapped the towel around her body and hunted for toiletries. Toothbrush and toothpaste were easily found, although she balked at the idea of using someone else's toothbrush. She didn't even know which one to use. Maybe this afternoon she could buy a new one, but that wouldn't solve the problem now. She started to reach for one randomly, but then an idea crossed her mind. Gingerly, she touched the bristles of both toothbrushes; one felt damp, the other didn't. The dry one must belong to Sara Jane, so she used it before she could change her mind. When finished with that, she moved on to the next task, hair, but she didn't immediately notice a hairbrush.

"Darn it, where do you keep your comb, Sara Jane?" She knelt down and looked in the curtained area under the sink, then after glancing up with frustration, spotted a hairbrush sitting on the back of the toilet. She grabbed it, turned to the mirror, which by now had partially cleared of steam... and screamed.

She couldn't remember her first name, or where she'd gone to college, or if she had a husband or boyfriend waiting for her back home – wherever home was – but she did know the face that looked back at her in the mirror was _not_ hers. The scream was an involuntary reaction, one which she immediately regretted.

The bathroom door flew open, and Sam came into the room, Karen right behind him. He scanned the bathroom quickly, then settled his eyes on the fellow leaper. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm sorry." She took a deep breath, trying to calm her heart and think of a fast explanation. "I just saw... a spider... on the mirror."

"A spider?" Karen rolled her eyes. "We thought you were being murdered or something! Geeze."

Looking at the partially fogged mirror, Sam made the connection and had to hide a smile by coughing. After four years of leaping, he had grown used to seeing someone else's reflection, but the first time had nearly scared him to death too. Sympathetically, he touched her shoulder. "Spiders can be frightening, if you're not expecting to see them."

"I don't even see a spider." Karen inspected the mirror, then turned with disgust. "You are imagining things again, Sara Jane."

"Maybe it ran off," Sam suggested. Then he noticed the shoulder beneath his hand was soft and bare, and realized that she wore nothing but a towel. He pulled his hand away and cleared his throat. "Uh, maybe we should look for the spider later...let Sara Jane get dressed."

She blushed horribly, having forgotten her state of undress in the confusion of having seen a blue-eyed blonde looking back at her from the mirror. Self-consciously, she put one hand on her chest, making sure the towel didn't slip.

"Good lord! And you've been standing here looking at her. Shame on you, Johnny Bircham." Karen pushed him out of the bathroom, then stood in the hallway while her 'sister' dashed into her bedroom.

—

"Mr. Bircham, you are late!" A short, older man glared at both of them. "And so are you, Miss Evans."

"Yes, sir, we realize that," Sam quickly answered. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

The man gave a loud humph. "That is what you've said every week for the past three years. Go on to the storeroom and start unpacking the new shipment of men's coats... don't know why they send us winter clothes in the summer, but they do, so we've got to sell them."

"All right," Sam said, and started walking toward the rear of the store.

"Sara Jane, where do you think you're going?"

She stopped and tried to act casual. "I thought I'd help Johnny with those..." Her voice slowed when she saw the manager shaking his head. "...coats?"

"Sara Jane – Johnny works in the back, and you and I work out here. I manage the cash register, and you work the sales floor. Or would you rather take over management and change everyone's positions around?" He glared at her sarcastically.

She shot a brief look at Sam, who shrugged helplessly and continued toward the back room. Turning back to the manager, she said, "I'm sorry. Of course, I work the sales floor. I'm just having a rough morning."

The work was different than she was used to, but she adapted quickly to the art of looking busy, and greeting everyone with a smile. That morning she suggested which tie an elderly woman ought to give her husband, helped a housewife pick a brightly colored scarf in addition to her purchase of a new handbag, and assisted a businessman in choosing a pair of suspenders. With each new person she met, she couldn't help but wonder who they were, what they were doing in the future. After a brief lunch, she found herself fitting a young girl with new shoes.

"I think we need to try a bigger size," she said doubtfully, after trying to squeeze the girl's feet into the narrow dress shoes. The child actually needed shoes in a wider width, but the style the mother insisted on didn't come any wider.

"You shouldn't complain so much, Elizabeth Ann," the mother scolded softly.

She froze, the shoebox in one hand. "What did you say?"

The mother looked up, surprised and a little guilty. "I told Liz-Ann she shouldn't be so picky about her shoes. She does this every time we go shopping."

_Elizabeth! _She nodded faintly, and turned to go to the storeroom, her heart pounding. A grin spread itself across her face, and when she bumped into Sam in the dimly lit room, she didn't try to hide her glee.

Sam raised an eyebrow, smiling himself. "What's so funny, Ms Calavicci?"

"Actually, it's 'Dr. Calavicci'," she told him lightly. "But you can call me Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth?" He looked confused for a second, then his face lit up. "That's your name? You remembered! That's fantastic."

"Yeah." She grinned, then suddenly remembered the little girl who needed shoes. Holding up the shoebox, she asked, "Do we have these in a size two-and-a-half?"

Sam took the box and inspected the label. "I'll check." A minute later he handed Elizabeth a new shoebox, which she took out to the waiting customers.

The rest of the day passed fairly smoothly, but by the time 5 o'clock rolled around, Elizabeth took off her name tag with relief. The thought occurred to her how mundane it was to have spent the entire day working as a salesgirl, when an extinct world lay all around her, begging to be explored. But at the same time, some inner instinct cautioned her to keep a low profile.

"My – Johnny's – mother called today," Sam told Elizabeth while they drove. "Apparently, I'm supposed to bring you to dinner tonight at her house. Some sort of weekly tradition, I think. You up to it?"

Dinner in an unfamiliar house, surrounded by strangers who would treat her, and expect to be treated, as if they were long-time acquaintances? The idea didn't appeal to her, but the alternative would be going "home" to a strange apartment, and pretending to be a sister to someone she'd only known a day. Exploring 1958 on her own didn't seem to be an option. And if she went she'd get to spend time with Dr. Beckett, her only link to reality. At the least, she'd be with someone vaguely familiar, someone who knew what it felt like to be an alien visitor to the past.

"Sure, why not?" she answered.


	11. To Follow That Star

**Chapter Ten - To Follow That Star**

**Project: Quantum Leap  
Monday July 5, 1999**

Dr. Beeks entered Al's office without knocking, knowing he wouldn't have heard her anyway. She studied him for a moment, noting he'd exchanged his pajamas for the spare outfit he kept in his office closet. She also noticed the tired lines around his eyes, and the fierce concentration he gave his work. Lightly, she cleared her throat. "When did you last eat, Admiral?"

"What?" Al didn't look up from the computer screen, where dozens of numbers scrolled by in a seemingly random order. He tried to make sense of them, and the knowledge that only a genius like Sam or Elizabeth or Ziggy could understand the equations didn't dissuade him.

Verbeena tapped her finger against the desk, trying to get Al's attention. "You need to eat. As in: take in sustenance. Imbibe nutrients which your body desperately needs in order to function properly." She sighed, and tried a different approach. Affecting an Italian accent, she gestured with her hands. "Manga, manga, Al!"

He looked up at her with surprise. "You want me to eat? Is it lunchtime already?" He glanced at the digital clock sitting on the edge of his desk, then back at the psychiatrist. "'Beena, it's only ten-thirteen. I had breakfast at eight."

"Notice the little dot beside the numbers," she pointed out. "That indicates PM, as in 'post meridian' or 'after noon'. You missed lunch. You missed dinner. You need to eat."

He waved his hand dismissively. "I'm fine. And I've got work to do. I'll eat later."

"And when will you sleep? I have it on good authority you haven't left this office since Elizabeth leaped, not even to go to bed. You've only eaten once, and that was when I brought you breakfast. This isn't healthy."

"Look! I don't care about sleeping. I don't care about eating." He glared at her with all of his 'admiral-in-charge' persona. "All I care about is finding my niece. Everything else, can wait. _Capisca_?"

—

**Paso Robles, California  
May 19, 1958**

As they pulled up to a simple one-story house on the edge of town, Elizabeth shook her head with amazement. "I have never seen so many classic cars in one day in all my life!"

Sam noticed the vintage cars parked nearby, and laughed. "You've never been to an old car show?"

"I don't know. I don't think so." She certainly didn't think she'd seen so many large, brightly colored cars before. Her hands moved automatically to unbuckle her seatbelt, but it wasn't there. She sighed with frustration.

Every time she turned around there was something else she wasn't used to, things so out of date they astonished her. Not only the physical aspects, but people's attitudes as well. All day, not a single African American customer had come into the store where she'd worked. Compared to the Project, where minorities held equal standing with everyone else, this place and time seemed so backward. In the future, so many people wanted to rewrite the past, and had made many attempts to do so, that not everyone knew the extent prejudice had reached prior to the height of the civil rights movement. She wondered which held more truth, movies which softened the truth and minimized racial conflicts, or history books with political slants and a tendency to overdramatize everything. Perhaps she'd find out.

"Try not to stare so much," Sam cautioned her again, as he climbed out of the car. "Remember, to Sara Jane, all of this is normal."

Elizabeth nodded with an exasperation Sam sympathized with. She stood on the sidewalk and brushed her hands over her skirt nervously. She'd never studied the history of fashion , so she had no idea if her clothes were appropriate, even if they did come from Sara Jane's closet. After all, some people kept clothes long after they'd gone out of stye. "Are you sure I look right?"

With a critical eye, Sam studied the full skirt, starched white blouse, and flat shoes that Elizabeth wore. After a moment, he walked over to her and adjusted the scarf in her hair, then stood back and smiled. "I'm no expert on 1950's fashion, but you look fine to me."

"Thanks... I think."

"Relax, 'my' family will love you. In fact, they already do, so all you need to do is act as if you know them and you'll do fine." He smiled convincingly as he guided her to the door, and punched the doorbell. He knew all too well the apprehension of meeting a family who thought they knew him, and though he'd been leaping for several years now, his stomach still twisted at the thought.

The door opened, startling them both. A woman who appeared in her mid-twenties grinned at them and squealed a greeting. "It's about time you got here! Oh, just look at you. Don't you make a cute couple! Walter, don't they make the cutest couple?" She opened the door all the way, and looked up at the tall man who stood beside her.

"Yeah, whatever," he replied, gesturing for them to come inside. Then he looked at them both with an apologetic expression and held up rough, calloused hands. "I'm sorry, Sara Jane, Johnny. You know I didn't mean it like that."

"No problem," Sam said easily, wondering if Walter just had a rough day, or if he'd once had something against Johnny and Sara Jane's dating. He reminded himself to ask Al – if the hologram ever showed up again. Meanwhile, he found himself being ushered into another room, while the woman led Elizabeth away. He managed a parting smile of reassurance, which he knew the other leaper appreciated.

The woman led Elizabeth to a worn couch, whose green and yellow striped cushions were overstuffed and bulging. The rest of the living room was decorated in shades of light brown, green, and dark yellow, with no discernible motif that Elizabeth could recognize. Although she couldn't be certain, the style seemed to be slightly out of date for the time period. Everything seemed to be clean and polished, no matter how faded with time it might be. She found herself wanting to meet the woman who took such loving care of her belongings, tending them with love, perhaps even desperation as they began to age. As she surveyed the room again, her gaze fastened on the odd looking television sitting one corner. The wooden case around it looked the size of a modern TV, but the actual screen was rounded, and appeared only about ten or twelve inches across.

"So, has my brother popped the question yet?"

Elizabeth quickly looked away from the old-fashioned TV and focused back on the young woman who leaned toward her in a conspiring fashion. She had bleached blonde hair which flipped out at her shoulders, and wore a tailored suit in a dark peach fabric which looked like raw silk. A brooch pinned at her shoulder sparkled with diamonds. On her left hand she wore a wedding ring which nearly out-glittered the brooch. From all of this, Elizabeth quickly surmised that she had been married for a while, most likely to someone wealthy. She must be Johnny's sister, though whether older or younger, Elizabeth couldn't tell. She also had no way of knowing whether Johnny had asked Sara Jane to marry him yet, so she pretended to not understand. Her eyebrows scrunched in false confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oops! I guess I shouldn't say anything, but I know he's been thinking about it. You'd better call me the minute he does." The woman grinned. "Which reminds me, did you hear about Jenny and Christopher?"

Elizabeth blinked, not sure how to respond, but thankfully, someone intervened.

"Mary, will you please stop gossiping and help me set the table? Supper's almost ready." An older woman wiped her hands on a faded dishtowel as she stood next to the couch. "It's good to see you, Sara Jane. Is everything all right? You look tired."

Elizabeth smiled and rose. From the resemblance to the younger woman, she knew this must be Johnny's mother, and thankfully, she had provided the name of Johnny's sister. "Everything's just fine. Can I help with anything, Mrs. Bircham?"

"You can help by calling me by my given name, Rebecca," she scolded lightly. Walking back into the kitchen, she mumbled, "Make an old woman feel positively ancient..."

Mary rolled her eyes and stood. "Pay her no mind. She's always going off about how old she's getting. Come on, you can help me set out the silver."

Elizabeth followed Mary into the dining room, letting her take the lead in setting the silverware and dishes on the table. The utensils were heavy silver, obviously family heirlooms, and the dishes looked like expensive china. Such nice place-settings contrasted with the look of the rest of the house, so Elizabeth assumed the family had once been well-off but since then hit hard times. If the daughter's husband was as wealthy as he seemed, though, why didn't he help out his aging mother-in-law?

Once the table stood ready, Rebecca brought the platters of food out, and everyone came into the room. Sam waited until everyone else sat, then seated himself in the empty chair next to Johnny's brother; Elizabeth quickly took the last seat, to the right of Sam.

Dinner proved sumptuous beyond belief – roasted chicken and potatoes, fresh peas and slightly cooked carrots, warm bread with honey butter, and French apple pie for desert. Elizabeth sighed happily, finishing everything on her plate. "I haven't eaten food this good since –" She noticed Sam's warning glance, and quickly altered what she'd planned to say. "– the last time I ate here. Everything was delicious Rebecca. Thank you."

Mrs. Bircham lifted a hand to her chest in faint surprise. "My! Well, thank you, Sara Jane. I'm glad you enjoyed it so much."

Sam nodded heartily. "Dinner was excellent, Mama. Don't you think?" He looked pointedly at the others around the table, who quickly chorused agreement.

"Well, I'd love to stay, Mama, but I've got to get home and clean the house before Chuck gets off work. He's been working so late at the hospital these days." Mary gave her mother a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, then excused herself.

"I've gotta go, too," stated Walter, wadding his napkin up. "Tomorrow's a big day at the shop, so I need to turn in early."

Elizabeth frowned, wondering if the family always excused themselves so quickly. When she was a child, she remembered her family lingering around the table for a long time, talking and enjoying each others company. From the slight frown on Sam's face, she suspected he felt the same way. "I'll help you clean up," she offered, to make up for the others' lack of appreciation.

Wearily, Rebecca nodded. The lines in her face seemed more pronounced as she stared after her leaving children.

Sam stood also. "You go on and relax, Mama. You made this wonderful dinner, so Sara Jane and I will take care of the dishes."

"Johnny, not once in your life have you volunteered to clear the table! Is something going on?" She looked at him doubtfully, her shrewd eyes narrowing.

"Nothing's going on, Mama. I just thought since you cooked us such a nice meal, you deserved to be off your feet for a while."

Sniffing with suspicion, Rebecca moved toward the living room, then stopped and turned back to them. "Is something wrong with you two? Did you have a fight?"

"What do you mean?" Sam quickly glanced at Elizabeth, then back to Mrs. Bircham.

"You know exactly what I mean. I'm not as senile as all that, not yet. Usually the two of you are inseparable – can't keep your hands off each other, always holding hands, and exchanging wistful glances, and kissing whenever my back is turned, until I think I'm going to have to take the garden hose to you both. Tonight," she paused thoughtfully. "Well, it's as if you just met or something."

Elizabeth laughed nervously, realizing the older woman was right. Indeed, they had only met recently, and neither she nor Sam had thought to act like a dating couple. To anyone familiar with Johnny and his girlfriend, the difference would be obvious. She hesitantly looked at Sam, and wondered which of them should do something to rectify the situation.

"We, uh, we had a little quarrel," Sam explained quickly, before she could think of anything to say. "But it's okay now. Right, sweetpea?" He draped his arm around Elizabeth's waist nonchalantly, hoping she wouldn't object. Under normal conditions, he would be prepared to act with casual intimacy toward the leapee's significant other, whether girlfriend or wife, but in this case, he felt uncertain. Elizabeth was a colleague, presumably a fellow physicist, already a friend, and definitely a fellow leaper.

"Of course... darling." She tried not to blush as she balanced the dishes in her hands, smiled convincingly at Johnny's mother, then started walking toward the kitchen.

Sam followed along, his hand still attached to her waist. "You wash, I'll dry?"

"Anything you want, honey." Elizabeth grinned mischievously, and had to duck the towel Sam flicked toward her. While she filled the sink with soapy water, Sam scraped the food remnants into the trash can. He brought the dishes over to her, and she let them slide into the hot water.

After waiting a moment to be sure they truly were alone, Sam said, "I hope I didn't embarrass you, back there."

"Of course not. She was right, we've been acting like strangers, and that just won't do." She turned off the tap and started randomly scrubbing. "It's funny, even though we've only just met, I feel as if we've been friends for a very long time. Is that because of Sara Jane's feelings for Johnny, do you think?"

"It could be." Sam nodded slowly. "Sometimes memories leak through from the leapee, and it can be hard to figure out what's real and what's not."

"Hmm. Well, either way, don't worry about having to act like we're dating. I don't mind." As she said that, Elizabeth felt another blush creep onto her face. She hoped Sam would attribute it to the hot water her hands were dunked in.

If Sam noticed, he didn't say. He rinsed the first set of glasses and began rubbing one with a towel. "You know, what I've really been wondering is how you managed to leap here, to the same time and place as me. When I first leaped, the targeting program hadn't been completed, and Al never said anything about finishing it."

Even though they'd stayed up late the night before trying to discuss the Project and the circumstances which brought Elizabeth into the past, she hadn't been able to provide much useful information. The name "Al" felt familiar to her, but she still couldn't place his identity. With a sigh, she deliberately relaxed her mind and tried to remember more details. Slowly, she said, "We did finish the targeting system, but I don't think I used it. Ziggy linked us."

"Linked us? How?" Sam furrowed his brow as he held a plate under running water. As soon as it was rinsed, he turned to face Elizabeth. "Al and I have our optic and auditory mesons and neurons aligned, which is how we're able to maintain contact. Does any of that sound familiar?"

Elizabeth nodded, recalling vague technical details of the fact that Al appeared as a hologram to Sam. "But different somehow. I have an implant...!" Her fingers reached to the back of her neck with surprise, and felt the tiny scar.

"Al and I both do, too." Sam remembered the secrecy surrounding that phase of the Project, and Al's loud objections to having a computer chip put in his brain. Chuckling softly at the memory, he added, "The neural implant makes the connection possible. Without it, Ziggy wouldn't be able to find me, and I wouldn't be able see Al."

"Exactly!" Excited at having a small piece of the puzzle solved, Elizabeth nearly dropped the handful of silverware as she passed it to Sam. "But mine links our neural signals without altering my brainwave pattern. Ziggy intended to make it identical to yours, but we ran out of time."

Sam mused thoughtfully, rinsing off the utensils. "So if Al were here, you wouldn't be able to see him?"

"I don't think so. Unless our brainwaves are naturally similar, which I doubt." She started scrubbing a pot. "By the way, what's your plan for saving Rebecca?"

"Stop her from killing herself, obviously."

"Obviously, but what about long-term? The psychological pain must be well-established for her to be considering suicide. She's probably suffering from severe depression. What's to stop her from trying again after you leave?"

"I usually leave that up to Him." Sam gestured towards the ceiling.

"Oh." Elizabeth frowned, using an elbow to move a damp curl out of her face. "Do you know the exact reason for the attempt?"

Sam wiped his hands dry, then moved behind Elizabeth and gathered her hair into a loose ponytail, tying it with the scarf that had loosened from the steam. "Last time I saw Al, he hadn't found out yet."

She nodded to his comment, momentarily surprised at his thoughtfulness, and grateful to have the hair out of her face. "From what I've seen so far, I'd say she has a history of clinical depression. If there's a chemical imbalance involved, things which might seem insignificant or tolerable to most people can swell out of proportion. Lack of appreciation from family members, advancing age – it could all add up to more than she feels she can handle."

"Now you sound like Verbeena." Sam laughed, going back to rinsing the soap off the freshly washed dishes.

"Who?" The name sounded tantalizingly familiar, but Elizabeth couldn't quite place it.

Recognizing the Swiss-cheese effect of leaping, Sam shook his head. "Never mind. And there we go – all done."


	12. No Matter How Hopeless

**Chapter Eleven - No Matter How Hopeless**

**Paso Robles, California  
Same Day**

Sam and Elizabeth found Rebecca alone in the living room, sitting in a rocking chair. A large book lay across her lap, and Elizabeth peered at it curiously. "What's that, Rebecca?"

"Oh, just some pictures from long ago." She started to close the photo album, but Elizabeth stopped her. Rebecca looked at her with surprise. "You don't really want to see an old woman's memories, do you?"

"I'd love to," Elizabeth replied. She knelt next to the older woman and examined the black and white photographs. "These look like antiques! Is that you in the uniform?"

"Well, it wasn't _that_ long ago, but sometimes it sure feels like it." Rebecca pointed to a group of pictures. "Back in the depression, then during the war, I served as a nurse. There were never enough doctors, so they always tried to get me to go either up to 'Frisco or down to L.A. to work in the hospitals, but I stayed here and cared for the local folks. I only had the one uniform, and no fancy equipment, but it didn't matter." She flipped the pages, stopping to look at one picture in particular, tears welling up in her eyes.

Elizabeth studied the faded picture of a baby, noticing the woman's reaction. Cautiously, she asked, "Is that Johnny?"

"Oh goodness, no, child. That's Sue Ellen Baker, the first baby I birthed. She's what got me interested in midwifery. July of 1933, and so hot I thought the paint might just melt off the walls." She smiled in remembrance. "Her mother came by the clinic in full labor. The doctor didn't get there in time, and the little one just popped right out into my arms."

Sam smiled, leaning past Elizabeth to glance at the picture. "Lucky baby. I couldn't imagine a better pair of arms to be welcomed into the world by, Mama."

Rebecca smiled and patted his arm in thanks. "She was a sweet little thing. All of them were. It's the most wonderful thing in the world to hold a newborn babe and know you're responsible for helping them being born. It's the next best thing to having children of your own."

"So you became a midwife?" Elizabeth scanned the pages of the photo album, finding more faded pictures of infants. "That's wonderful!"

"Yes, but that was such a long time ago. Most of these kids are grown now, with families of their own." Rebecca noticed the clock mounted above the couch. "Goodness! You'd better get going or you'll miss your picture show."

"Picture show?" Elizabeth looked at Sam questioningly, but he lifted his shoulders subtly, not knowing.

"Oh, come now. I know you always go to San Luis Obispo to see one of them motion pictures after having dinner with me. Didn't you say this week they're showing some kind of horror film? With that young fellow, Steve McQueen."

"_The Blob_," Elizabeth said suddenly. "I love that movie. At least, I think I will."

Sam raised an eyebrow at her, then turned back to Rebecca. "It sounds interesting. Why don't you come with us, Mama? Maybe you'd enjoy it."

He realized his mistake when he saw the expression on her face.

"Now I know there's something wrong with you, Johnny Bircham! Asking your mama to go on a date with you?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Besides, I can't stand those science fiction movies. Nothing but aliens who try to eat you, monsters shooting ray guns, and silly girls who stand there and scream when they ought to be running for their lives. No, you kids go on. Have a good time."

"Are you sure, Rebecca?" Elizabeth looked concerned. "We could see a different movie, if you'd like."

Mrs. Bircham laughed, but sadly. "I'm much too old to be gallivanting around like some teenager. Go on, you two. It's time for me to turn in, anyway."

"You're not so old, Mama," Sam said reprovingly. But he stood, and after giving Johnny's mother a goodbye kiss, walked with Elizabeth to the door.

Rebecca watched them leave, then turned back to the photo album, flipping through it with tears, recollecting earlier years.

—

"_The Blob_?" Sam gave Elizabeth a sideways glance as they drove away.

She grinned. "It scared me to death when I was a kid. A classic, really. Science fiction at its innocent peak. I'd love to see it on the big screen."

"I suppose you'd like to wait in the back of the theater and start screaming during the scene where the Blob eats the teenagers in the movie theater." Sam smirked.

She smiled back, mischievously. "The next best thing to standing outside a theater playing _Star Wars_ and shouting, 'Luke, I am your father!'"

"Now that sounds like a good way to get yourself killed. But you'll have to wait a few years. It's only 1958, remember?"

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully, and looked out the car window. "You know, even the air is different here. It's cleaner, lighter, more fresh. Like going out in the middle of nowhere after living in the city your whole life. And the stars... they remind me of..." A vague memory shifted forward of a flat red landscape and a wide open, brilliant blue sky which darkened and filled with thousands upon thousands of sparkling stars. She shook her head, and the image disappeared from her mind.

She sat quietly for a few minutes as they drove, just staring at the stars. Her eyes picked out the constellation of Orion, and somehow she felt comforted. She turned back to Sam. "By the way, do you know how to get to San Luis Obispo?"

Sam chuckled. "Not a clue. But unless you've got your heart set on seeing _The Blob_, I figured I'd just take you back to Sara Jane's place. According to the store manager, I've got to work tomorrow morning. Will you be okay on your own tomorrow?"

"Oh, I'll be fine." Elizabeth nodded, slightly disappointed, but understanding. "There're a few things I need to take care of, anyway."

"Oh? You're not going to try to place any bets or make investments or anything like that, are you?" He looked at her briefly, hiding a smile, then turned his attention back to the road.

With surprise in her voice, Elizabeth immediately replied, "No! Of course not. How could you even think that I would –"

"First of all, I don't know you well enough to trust your motives. We did only just meet," Sam pointed out. Yet he hesitated upon saying it, for there was still something tantalizingly familiar about her, and he wasn't completely sure it was her resemblance to Al. He put those thoughts aside and continued, "I do, however, trust Al and Ziggy's judgement. They wouldn't have hired you if they had any suspicions you would try to use the Project for personal gain, which is why I was just _teasing_ you."

"Oh." She had no response to that, and the peculiar idea bubbled up that she'd just been teased by the world's most eminent scientist. Finally she said, "Besides, I don't even remember my last name, how would I know where to invest?"

Sam conceded the point, and they drove in silence for a few minutes. Until Elizabeth suddenly burst out laughing. He looked at her sideways. "What's the joke?"

"The strangeness of the situation just hit me," she answered. "Do you realize I haven't even been born yet?"

"That's right," Sam realized. "How old are you?"

She thought about it for a few seconds. "I have no idea. Not this old, though."

"Hm." He ignored the implication about his age. "Well, don't worry about it. You know, if Al hadn't told me, I still wouldn't even remember my last name."

Pained because she knew she ought to know, Elizabeth bit her lip. "Who, um–who exactly is Al?"

Sam took pity on her, knowing the loneliness and frustration of a Swiss cheese memory. By the time he detailed his friendship with Al, and the Admiral's position within Project: Quantum Leap, they'd reached Sara Jane's apartment building.

Elizabeth still felt there was something about Al she wasn't recalling, but the memory couldn't be forced. She stepped out of the car and shut the door behind her, then leaned through the window to talk to Sam, only to find that he'd gotten out to escort her to the door. So, as they walked, she quietly asked, "Do you know what time Rebecca makes the suicide attempt?"

"Tomorrow evening, I think." He hesitated, not wanting to disturb her with unnecessary details, then briefly explained, "According to what Ziggy told Al, someone found the body early in the morning the following day. Time of death was estimated, but it's hard to be sure."

Elizabeth nodded. "Okay, then. We'd better meet up tomorrow afternoon."

"Can you find your way to the house?" he asked. They stopped in front of Sara Jane's door.

"I think so. This town is pretty small." She saw the concern on Sam's face and smiled at him. "Don't worry. If I can find my way around New York City, I think I can handle this little town."

He was already halfway back to the car before Elizabeth realized the small clue she'd been given to her past. It wasn't much, but definitely a start.


	13. No Matter How Far

_To Anonymous-cat: Thank you for reviewing every step of the way! If you'd left an email address I would have answered all your reviews personally, but I'll try to respond to everything here._

_Al knew the purpose of the retrieval program as well as Ziggy, but the fact that Ziggy couldn't get a lock on Dr. Calavicci meant that they had no way of knowing where or when she leaped. They probably figured that if she was with Sam, as she was supposed to be, they would have gotten a lock on her, so no use looking._

_Another thing to keep in mind though, even if Al went looking around for Liz, he wouldn't be able to see her. Her bio-chip implant links her to Sam, but they didn't have time to fine-tune it enough to link her to Al also. Her brain waves aren't naturally similar to Al's, so they wouldn't see each other. (I spent hours working out the technical details of the whole leaper/hologram/other leaper relationship, with the help of Chris DeFilippis, a published Quantum Leap author and expert on neural holography!)_

_When she first leaped, Liz remembered her last name only, and a few very vague details of the Project. At the store she is jolted into remembering her first name, and the fact that she has a doctorate._

_Don't worry, Al will show up! (And now, back to our story...)  
_

**Chapter Twelve - No Matter How Far**

**Paso Robles, California  
May 20, 1958**

Rebecca Bircham sighed as she washed the lunch dishes. There weren't very many, since she'd eaten alone, again. No one had time to spend with her, it seemed. Everyone always rushed about, doing things, and never any spare time to sit and visit, or share a meal. Even her own children.

"Well," she said quietly, "I guess that's what growing old is. You raise your kids, teach them to live their own lives... and they do. Though you'd think they'd find time once a week for a simple conversation after dinner."

The phone rang then, and Rebecca listened to her daughter's quick, vague explanation of why she wouldn't make it next Sunday for dinner. "That's fine, dear," she said, then hung the phone up.

"That's just fine," she whispered to herself sadly. Tears built up in her eyes, then spilled down her cheeks, leaving trails of salt on her face. She didn't bother to wipe them away. Who would notice, or care?

—

Sam took a bite from his sandwich, then jumped at a familiar _whoosh_ behind him. Chewing and swallowing quickly, he turned to accuse his holographic companion. "Where were you, Al? It's been three days and I really needed to talk to you! Do you have a daughter?"

"I know, I'm sorry, Sam." Al rubbed his tired eyes with one hand, then suddenly realized what Sam had asked. "A what? A daughter? No." He chuckled softly. "Not unless one of my ex's decided to keep a really big_, big_ secret from me!"

Still curious, Sam started to inquire further, but he finally noticed Al's unshaven, rumpled appearance. Usually the observer's clothes were immaculately pressed, and the only time he wasn't perfectly groomed was if he'd either gotten drunk, or something very bad had happened. On rare occasion the two went hand in hand. With strong suspicion, Sam asked, "Are you hungover?"

"No, I am not," Al replied indignantly, standing up straighter and making an effort to smooth his jacket out. "I just haven't slept in almost–" He tried calculating silently. "Um, fifty-two hours. No, fifty-three hours? Wait, let me figure this out."

"Fifty-two hours? Al! You're going to kill yourself." Sam glared at the hologram. He believed what Al said about not having a hangover and besides, alcohol didn't keep Al awake. He realized it had to be the latter idea. Something awful must've happened at the Project. With genuine concern, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Al sighed, giving up trying to figure out how long it'd been since he last slept. "It's a long story, Sam. Do you remember– no, that's right, you never met her. Well –" The handlink suddenly squealed urgently, intruding on Al's line of thought. He looked down, squinting at the data. He blinked a couple of times, then the information registered, and his eyes widened. "Uh oh, Sam! It's Rebecca Bircham. Ziggy says she's found some pills and she's going to overdose within the next thirty minutes! We've got to get over there, fast."

_Oh, boy._ Problems in the future versus problems in the past. Sam looked at Al's bedraggled state and made a quick decision. "I'll handle it, Al. You go back and get some sleep."

"Once you save her you'll leap," Al protested, even though he knew that he needed the rest more than Sam needed his help. In the state he was in, he probably wouldn't be much help anyway, but his Italian stubbornness, combined with extreme fatigue, made him argue.

"I'll leap whether or not you're with me, Al. Go to bed, doctor's orders."

"But, Sam, what if you need me? Suicides can be very tricky to handle. I ought to know." Al tapped absently at the handlink, struggling to fight a yawn. "You might need help."

"I'm a doctor Al, I think I can handle it. And you're in no condition to help anyone, except yourself to bed. Now, go!"

"Dr. Bossy here thinks he can handle things himself, well fine! You can deal with this on your own. I'm going to bed!" Al made a mock salute, and pressed a button on the handlink. Right before he disappeared, he gave Sam a wink.

Sam shook his head, chuckling softly. Then the Imaging Chamber door closed with a _whoosh_ and a _clank_ behind Al, and Sam raced toward Mrs. Bircham's house, all thoughts centering on the emergency about to unfold.

—

Sam knocked at the front door urgently. When no one answered, he forced the door open and stepped inside. Loudly, he called out, "Mama? Where are you?"

The house was eerily silent, and Sam's heart beat quickly. Had he arrived too late? Had Mrs. Bircham already taken a fatal dose of medication? Swiftly he walked from room to room, searching, and shouting for her. "Mama, answer me! Where are you?"

He entered the kitchen last, and saw a figure slumped at the small table. "Oh, no! No, no, no!" Sam rushed over and saw several bottles of pills sitting next to Rebecca's hand... but they were all full.

"Mama?" he repeated, cautiously, feeling for a pulse.

Rebecca lifted her head to look at him with eyes swollen from crying. "Oh, Johnny. What are you doing here?"

Sam pulled out a chair and sat close to her, relieved she was still alive, but somewhat confused. "I was worried about you, mama. I thought – I thought you were going to commit suicide."

She sighed, wiping her face with her hands. "And what if I was? It wouldn't matter."

"Of course it would matter," Sam said quickly.

"Johnny, please just leave me be. I'm an old woman who's outlived her usefulness."

Sam shook his head, his voice intense. "That's not true. You know I care about you, and so do a lot of folks. Mary and Walter..."

Rebecca stayed silent, her face impassive. At the same moment that Sam reached to put his arm around her, Elizabeth walked into the room. The look she gave Sam indicated she'd been listening from the other room.

As Elizabeth moved toward the table, she nervously twisted the sheaf of papers she held, and took stock of the situation mentally. The initial suicide had been averted, her and Sam's presence ensured that. But at the moment there was nothing to stop Rebecca from trying to kill herself the moment she was alone. Elizabeth hoped she could change that by offering the woman something to continue living for.

"Rebecca," she said softly, kneeling down on the floor and looking up at Mrs. Bircham. "You said you're not useful anymore, but that's not true."

"What can I offer anyone now, except being a burden?" she replied, her voice choked.

Sam started to speak, but Elizabeth gave him a shake of her head. "You were a fine nurse. You delivered all those babies."

"That was a long time ago." Rebecca dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. "Nobody needs me now. I'm just a burden on my children."

"I need you, mama," Sam said quickly. "What would I do without my mother?"

"Fool boy, you're grown! And you've got Sara Jane." Her eyes indicated Elizabeth, whom she saw as Johnny's girlfriend.

Elizabeth moved closer, reaching over to hold Rebecca's hand. "What about Mrs. Isaacs, down the street?"

Rebecca frowned, unable to see where this was going, and why the two kids were even bothering with her. She shrugged. "What about her?"

Feeling Sam's eyes on her, Elizabeth knew he wondered what she was doing. She had no time to explain it to him, so she continued talking, keeping her voice steady, and hoping he wouldn't interfere. "That's where I just came from. Mrs. Isaacs is going to have her baby now, and her husband Billy's out of town."

Uncertain, Rebecca looked at Elizabeth. "So?"

"Well, there isn't enough time to get her to the hospital in San Luis. When I told her how many babies you've delivered, she decided you're the only one she'll let attend her. She begged me to fetch you. She won't even consider the local doctor, now."

"Hmph." Rebecca gave a disdainful snort. "Local doctor couldn't deliver a baby if he held a basket under a woman's legs."

Sam allowed himself a smile, as he began to understand Elizabeth's plan. "Won't Billy Isaacs be happy when he comes home to find his brand-new baby daughter or son, safe and sound, thanks to you?"

"Son," Rebecca said with the authority of experience. "I know it from the way she's carrying. It'll be a boy."

"But not unless you help her deliver," Elizabeth pointed out. "Without your help, they could both die."

"Maybe, maybe not."

Both Sam and Elizabeth saw her considering it, a faint light coming to the eyes that had held nothing but misery. There was still hesitation, though, so Elizabeth made sure to add, "It's her first baby, Rebecca, and she's very scared. She told me to hurry."

Rebecca closed her eyes briefly, and sighed. "An old woman's work is never done, I suppose. Even when she's ready for a rest. All right. Go fetch my bag, it's in the hall closet." Quietly, she muttered, "Probably full of moths and spiderwebs."

"Thank you, Mama." Sam breathed out in relief. He stood, and helped Elizabeth up, then went to the closet and pulled down the medical bag. Rebecca took it and began gathering the things she'd need, mumbling to herself the whole time.

—

A short time later, Sam pulled the car into the Isaacs' driveway. Elizabeth led the way to the bedroom where a very pregnant woman waited anxiously. While Rebecca offered quiet assurances to the frightened mother-to-be, Sam took Elizabeth aside.

"How'd you know that Mrs. Isaacs was going into labor?" he asked.

Elizabeth smiled, glancing over Sam's shoulder to make sure Rebecca was handling the situation adequately. She was, so Elizabeth turned back to Sam. "I checked the medical records off all the women in the area due this month. A lucky coincidence, I suppose, that Mrs. Isaacs decided to have her baby today."

"Very lucky." He turned his head, watching Rebecca set things up for the impending delivery. "She needed to feel needed again, useful. This was perfect. Although," he frowned slightly. "Once this baby is born, then what? She'll probably have the same problems, unless I can convince her to go into counseling or something."

"Or something." Elizabeth grinned, enjoying the feeling of knowing something that Dr. Beckett didn't. He raised his eyebrows at her, undeniably curious, so she revealed her plan. "The psychiatric techniques of this decade weren't the most efficient. For a lot of people, the drugs and 'therapy' sessions did more harm than good. The most likely thing to help Mrs. Bircham is to feel needed again, to be distracted from her advancing age and everything else. Delivering babies is what she loves doing, it's what she needs to feel useful. So, I've arranged an interview with her at the county hospital. They want to hire her as a part-time midwife, attending births at homes where the doctor is unable to visit, or when he's busy, like today."

Sam felt his mouth drop open with surprise. "But that's perfect! She'll love it. I never would have thought to look into something like that."

Elizabeth smiled with satisfaction. "So, you can leap now, right?"

"Any minute now, I'd think," Sam said. "But what's going to happen?" He lowered his voice. "Do you think we'll leap home?"

"I hope so. But, I don't know," Elizabeth admitted. "I'm sure that was the purpose of the experiment, but from what I can remember, it's already gone off course. We are linked, though, so we should leap together. At least, if that part of the experiment works."

Sam nodded, squeezing her shoulder gently. "Whatever does happen, thank you. It's nice to know I haven't been forgotten – that there are still people trying to bring me home."

Elizabeth smiled faintly. "No one's forgotten you, Doctor Beckett. And no one will."

"I wouldn't mind if you called me Sam," he whispered, just as Rebecca walked over.

"I need your help," she said, looking at Sam and Elizabeth. "It's getting a bit complicated."

Immediately, Sam followed her back to where the expectant mother lay on her bed. "What's the problem?"

Rebecca shook her head. "You wouldn't understand. I'm not going to spout a lot of medical jargon. Just wash your hands, then get behind her and help hold her up. Sara Jane, after you wash up, come here and help at this end."

"Are you sure this is all I need to do?" Sam moved behind Mrs. Isaacs, frustrated that he could never let anyone know he held a medical degree.

"Yes, just hold her and help her bear down when I say so. Sara Jane, hand me those towels." Rebecca said. To the pregnant woman she repeated, "You're doing wonderful, just keep breathing. I know it hurts, but you're doing good. It'll all be over soon."

Elizabeth hurried to pass the stack of clean towels, trying to remember to breathe through her own nervousness. She'd taken emergency medical classes, of course, and seen television programs on labor, but she'd never actually attended a birth. Carefully, she watched Rebecca, bewildered but doing exactly as told.

Rebecca's expert hands felt Mrs. Isaacs' stomach, pressing in on one side, then the other. She nodded tensely, then ordered, "Push, now. Help her, Johnny!"

Sam obeyed, supporting the laboring woman as she leaned forward. He wished he could see what was going on, but he had to trust that Rebecca knew what she was doing. She was the midwife, and for now, he was merely a helper.

Elizabeth couldn't believe the screams coming from Mrs. Isaacs, but she saw the rippling of her stomach as the contractions increased, and she saw the tremendous efforts the woman made to give birth. It couldn't be much longer.

"All right, stop pushing. Stop!" Rebecca made quick movements, then nodded. "Go ahead, finish bearing down. There!"

A slippery, pale baby was thrust into Elizabeth's arms. Stunned, she wrapped a towel around the tiny child and wiped its face clean. It began to wail and turn bright pink. With a shaky voice, she announced, "It's a boy!"

"And this one's a girl," Rebecca stated, her face glowing with satisfaction. She wrapped a second baby, then handed her also to Elizabeth. "Don't you dare drop either one of these babies!"

Elizabeth had tears in her eyes as she held the two feather-light bundles. She'd held babies before, but none so small or so new. And to think, she'd actually helped deliver them! She looked to Sam with amazement.

"Twins?" Sam looked back at her, startled. Then he turned to Rebecca questioningly.

"One boy, one girl. Both absolutely perfect!" Rebecca finished the necessary deeds for Mrs. Isaacs, then wiped her hands on a fresh towel. She took the babies one at a time and handed them to their mother, who wore a look of tired awe. "And it's a good thing I was here, too. One of these imps was turned sideways, and not many doctors these days bother with turning them. They're too quick with the surgical knife, when a little patience and know-how is all that's needed."

Sam met Elizabeth's gaze and grinned. She smiled back, then felt a sudden tingling sensation surge over her. Panicked, she reached for Sam, but everything around her disappeared. Both she and Sam vanished into a brilliant aura of blue light.


	14. Onward to Glory I Go

**Epilogue - Onward To Glory I Go**

**Project: Quantum Leap  
Wednesday July 7, 1999**

Al woke from a sound sleep with the sound of someone's voice in his ear. "Huh? What?" He lifted his head, looking around with confusion. No one else was in his room. But the voice sounded again.

"Good morning, Admiral Calavicci."

With one hand, Al groggily threw a pillow toward the speaker in the wall. "For pity's sake, let me sleep Ziggy!"

"I'm sorry, Admiral." The computer's voice actually sounded regretful, and that caught Al's attention. Usually the overdeveloped egocentric computer delighted in torturing him. He braced himself for bad news as Ziggy continued, "You asked to be told of any important news regarding the leap, or Dr. Calavicci."

Al sat up, nervousness engulfing him. "What's the news? Did Sam leap? Did Elizabeth come home? Well? Tell me!"

"Dr. Beckett successfully averted the suicide of Rebecca Bircham, and leaped. His solution was both unique and ingenious." Ziggy paused, her voice turning slightly depressed in tone. "Unfortunately, we still haven't gotten a lock on Dr. Calavicci. I estimate the chances of her returning now, either alone or with my father, are less than six point nine percent. Those odds decrease by point one percent with every hour that passes."

Al swore vehemently and imaginatively, then fell back onto the bed with a sigh. It was going to be a _long_ day.


End file.
